


The Hwangddams Family

by 0KKULTiC



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Addams Family AU, Addams Family References, BaeHwiLin are the kids, Basic!Ong, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gomez!Jaehwan, Inspired by Addams Family, M/M, Morticia!Minhyun, OT3, Polyamory, Short & Sweet, Spooky, Spoopy shenanigans, Whimsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 21:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20842415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Ong is thrilled when he find the perfect rental home at an even more perfect price. However, upon moving in he realizes there's a bit of a catch: the neighbors. Though he finds them alarming at first, he quickly comes to realize that maybe their unconventional brand of life and love is just what he needs.They're creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky, they're altogether ooky - the Hwangddams Family!





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> // this is unbeta'd and will contain increased errors

Ong Seongwoo strides up to his the realtor’s office with a spring in his step. He can’t help smiling ear to ear as he skips toward the door to pick up the keys of his new rental. 

  
The place is a steal to say the least. Six-hundred a month with water included for a two bed, two bath with its own detached garage, porch, small fenced backyard, mailbox, recently renovated, open concept. No more neighbors on the floor above stomping around or loud movies leaking through the walls. It adds about five minutes to his commute time, and the neighborhood isn’t as hip or happening - but he considers that stuff a small price to pay for his own slice of heaven.

The realtor who’d helped him land the deal greets him with a tight-lipped grin from behind her desk. She straightens her pink ensemble - pastel pink pants and a matching jacket, a flowwy blouse and a necklace almost as big as her face. Ong wonders if maybe he should’ve dressed up for the passing of the keys. After all, this is his first house. Sure, it’s a rental, but it’s a step in the right direction. He’s pretty sure his stuff won’t begin to fill up all the space he’s got, and he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the extra room.

“Are you ready to get the keys to your new home, Mr. Ong,” The pink woman says.

“Very much so!” Ong chirps with a huge grin.

“Yes, well, being that you only took the virtual tour, I imagine you want to get on in there. I imagine you’re eager to see the property. Now, let me just find those keys for you…” She disappears into a back room briefly.

“Yes, please,” Ong feels like a kid being told to wait to open a massive Christmas present. He bounces from one foot to the other as he glances out the window, ready to leap into his car and  _ go _ .

“Now, let me remind you, you signed the twelve-month lease, but you to be locked in for at least six months,” The woman says from the back room.

“Mhm.”

“And you will be required to pay even in the event that you vacate the home. There will be no breaking prior to that.”

“Uh-huh,” Ong nods, not really listening to her spiel. He knows it’s a risk not visiting the place, but the paralyzing fear of missing out on such a massive deal eclipsed the voice of reason. Luckily, everything appears to be as described - at least from his view through the window. He’s not sure why the hell he’d vacate anyway.

“Right, well, here they are Mr. Ong,” The realtor emerges, keys dangling in her hand. “The keys to the palace.”

“Thank you,” Seongwoo grins eagerly, doing his best not to tear her hand off of her body with the fervor with which he grabs the keys.

“You have the address?”

“Already in my maps app.”

“Well, I can see how excited you are. Now, please know I’ll be out on a showing, so if you have any… Questions, I’ll be unable to answer them until later.”

“Oh, that’ll be fine,” Seongwoo waves dismissively. 

“With that settled remember you can access all of your documents on the online resident portal, so, um, have a good evening, Mr. Ong!” The realtor grins, practically power walking to the coat rack by the door.

“Wh- Oh, right, yeah. Um- Yeah,” Ong chuckles. He guesses she’s as eager to get going as he is. Maybe she’s cutting it short for her showing. “W-Well, have a good evening, Ms.”

“Yes, you, too,” She responds, pupils constantly shifting between his and the door.

“Uh, right then, I’ll just-” Ong points a thumb toward the door. “Yeah, um- goodbye! Thank you, miss!”

“Bye, bye now!”

Seongwoo steps out of the door, keys clutched tightly in his fist,“Have a good d-”

“Slam!”

“Oh,” Ong jumps at the sudden sound of the door slamming shut behind him. Guess she had something urgent to do first.

Seongwoo thinks nothing of it, shrugging as he steps into his car. He turns it on and speeds half of the way there, dizzy with eagerness to see his new place.

* * *

The neighborhood is a far departure from the urban flat he rented for the year prior. It’s not the prettiest or the newest, the majority of the houses more than a few decades due for renovations. Most of the residents are older folks who probably turn their lights out at nine o'clock. There’s even evidence of a few families in the area - basketball hoops here, discarded toys left on the lawn there. Thankfully, the houses are spaced out enough that Ong’s not too afraid of bothering the neighbors with his erratic sleep schedule and penchant for solo karaoke.

He turns a corner, and the houses become even more sparse until petering out almost completely. Seongwoo slows down and ducks his head so he can gawk at the thick woods that seemed to pop up out of nowhere.

“Your destination is three kilometers ahead on the right,” The prim robotic voice of Seongwoo’s phone informs him.

Suddenly, the sky dims, and vibrant blue skies fade into a somber gray color. Thick clouds float low in the sky menacingly.

“Wh- It wasn’t supposed to rain today,” Ong frowns. He slows down even more, watching the sky worriedly. It looks liable to tear apart and release torrential rain down onto the poor masses beneath it at any second. 

A flash of light illuminates the sky, and Seongwoo impulsively slams the brakes in startlement. His heart ceases for half a second as he chokes on his own breath.

_ “Craaaaaash!”  _ A booming clap of thunder follows.

“What the…” Seongwoo gives himself a couple of seconds to recover from the near brush with death in the form of a heart attack. Luckily, the entire road is deserted save for him. He glances at his phone’s GPS to see that he’s just half a kilometer from the little red marker. “Okay, okay… Just… Calm down. Get to your house. Take shelter?” His nose wrinkles with confusion. He definitely didn’t prepare for a storm on his first day in the new place. What if it floods badly and he needs food? How many places even deliver out here?

“Okay, just- just drive, Ong,” Seongwoo assures himself. He sets his hands back on the wheel and checks the road. It’s all clear, but something else captures his attention. Somehow, he’d ended up right in front of someone’s driveway. 

However, the driveway stretching back into a massive stretch of cleared land is a far,  _ far _ departure from any of the others he saw in the neighborhood.

“What the-?” Ong’s jaw drops, and he presses his foot on the brake yet again.

A wrought iron fence stretches across the entirety of the massive lot of land, lining the perimeter of the pitifully dead but somehow flawlessly cut lawn. It stretches back, back, back - so far back that it disappears in the distance beyond. The pikes adorning the tops of the fence poles look sharp, dangerously so. Ong can all too easily picture something impaled on the damn things. An intricately designed gate blocks the driveway. Ornately cast metal forms a fine spider web pattern, centered with an unsettlingly realistic black widow.

Seongwoo catches the sight of a nameplate on one of the brick pillars separating gate from house. He squints to read the name, muttering it aloud:

“The Hwangdams Family… Huh,” He grunts. “What a strange name.” He eyes the winding driveway of slate cobblestone all the way back to the grand, victorian gothic estate. The mansion is three - no four? - Stories tall. A massive tower provides the centerpiece for the gargantuan gray structure above which the darkest of the clouds swirl angrily.

_ “Craaash!” _ Another bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, touching down onto the very spiky spire ornamenting the mansion’s tall tower. Ong winces, deciding that’s his cue to get the heck to his house.

Seongwoo swallows nervously and proceeds down the road to his house. Strangely enough, the clouds recede. By the time he’s passed the massive estate, the sun is shining and birds are chirping once again.

“Weird,” Ong mutters as he rolls toward his driveway. “Global warming, the silent killer.” He shakes his head.

Finally, he sees his house in the distance. He speeds up, excitedly swerving into his short drive. Ong bounces in his seat giddily and waits no sooner than the second his engine turns off to hop out of his car. He skips to the door in the most dignified way possible until reaching the door. He fishes out his brand new keys, but the second he slots them into the keyhole, a voice hollers from behind him.

“Howdy, neighbor!” 

Once again, Ong jumps, startled. With wide eyes, he turns around to spot an older woman with her passenger window down. She’s got cropped hair and horn-rimmed glasses, along with a knitted scarf comprised of gaudy neon yarn.

“H-Hello?” Seongwoo asks, once again willing his heart rate to steady into something reasonable. He heaves a sigh and approaches the woman’s car with a phony smile.

“Couldn’t help but noticed you pulled in. Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Uh, hi?” Ong waves awkwardly, trying to hide his grimace behind a forced smile. “I, um, I just got here actually. Haven’t even, uh- opened the door, so-”

“You can call me Ms. Kim, by the way. I’m about a kilometer up the way,” She points in the opposite direction that Ong had come from. 

“Oh, um. I’m Ong. Ong Seongwoo.”

“Ong? That’s a funny name. Are you single,  _ Ong _ ?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s your story young man? Got a family? A wife? Kids?”

“Uh, n-no, just me. And my house.”

“No kids?!” The woman laughs incredulously. “The youth of today, why, when I was your age- oh, nevermind that. That was in the Jurassic era. Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood is all. This place has been vacant for months now - even after all those nice renovations they did. It’s nice to finally see someone live there again.”

“Uh- Well, it’s a great area, and the price was right, so-”

“After all with the neighbors you got next door,  _ yikes _ ,” The woman makes an exaggerated face of disgust.

“Y-Yikes?” Ong’s head involuntarily turns in the direction he’d driven from. The line between the two properties is clear as day. Seongwoo’s lot is fairly small, but enough to house a modest yard and even a backyard. The transition from his little green lawn is stark and jarring. There is no gradual fading from green to brown. No, it’s as if someone drew a precise line. On one side: lush, green grass. On the other: the neighbor’s stringy, dead lawn, bordered by threatening wrought iron.

Seongwoo’s mouth drops when he sees the clouds above the grand estate. It’s astounding, some unfathomable weather anomaly. Above Ong’s house? Blue sky. Just beyond the neighbor’s property line? Blue sky. Above the neighbor’s property? A low hanging mass of swollen, malignant looking clouds.

_ “Craaash!” _ Lightning strikes the tower again.

“You best stay away from those folks,” The older neighbor, Ms. Kim, warns. “They’re strange. Ran the last couple that lived here outta this very house, and the family before that.”

“Th-They did?” Seongwoo asks, anxiety starting to balloon in his chest. He can’t help but recall his realtor’s words now. “You’re locked in even if you vacate the home,” she said. Suddenly that little clause makes a lot more sense.

“Oh goodness yes,” Ms. Kim says with a wave of her hand. “The couple that used to live there - god rest their souls, they’re in a better place now-”

“Oh my god, are they dead?!” Ong squeaks, clutching his hands at his heart.

“What? No, no, not at all! They moved to Vegas!”

  
“Oh-”

“But not before enduring all sorts of hardship at the hand of those crazy neighbors!”

“They did?”

“Yes, dear. Goodness, poor Mr. Park’s blood pressure skyrocketed! The man had to go on medication, and his wife’s hair went gray in a matter of months. The poor woman had more grays than a silverback gorilla!”

“That’s, um, unfortunate,” Ong really wishes he hadn’t been so polite. All he had to do was ignore her, that’s all. Instead, he had to be nice, polite, accommodating Ong. Now he has to experience what is perhaps the worst buyer’s remorse he’s ever experienced in his life.

“Oh, yes, dear. You listen to me and listen real good, okay? Those people over there-” She points to the Victorian mansion in the distance, “-are depraved. That beautiful home of theirs is a hotbed of sin! They are up at all hours of the night doing god knows what. Now, you look like a good man-”

“I do?”

“-Yes, you do! So please take my advice and just keep to yourself, alright? If you’re lonely, just come on down to the rotary club! We play bingo every Wednesday night, and there’s a weekly book club.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s very kind of you to offer. Now, if you would excuse me, I- I haven’t gotten into my house-”

“Remember, Seongwoo, keep to yourself, got it?”

“Uh- Right-” Seongwoo finds it harder and harder to keep up the polite facade as the old busybody wears on his patience.

“And whatever you do:  _ never _ , under  _ any _ circumstances, agree to babysit those spawns of satan they call children.”

“Th- Their children-?”

“You get on and have a good day now!” Ms. Kim swaps from dire to jubilant so rapidly it gives Ong whiplash. “Bye, bye!”

“Wh- Oh- Okay, um, b-buh-bye!” Ong waves, completely and utterly lost.

“Enjoy your new house!” Ms. Kim waves, flashing Seongwoo a wide grin. “Remember: bingo on Wednesdays!”

  
“Yeah- mhm! Bye, now!” Ong stretches another strained smile across his face. He waves politely as she rolls up her window and continues to do so until she finally drives away. When her car disappears around the corner, he heaves a sigh of relief and his shoulders slump.

The calm doesn’t last long, though. Soon enough his eyes find themselves fixed on that menacing victorian manse in the distance. He swallows nervously, dread knotting up in his stomach. He prays that he’ll never have to encounter the Hwangddams family.


	2. Every House Needs A Cauldron

“Phew,” Ong huffs, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He’d packed a few essentials for picking up his keys, but the movers came a couple of days later. He doesn’t have a ton of big stuff, and the two-bedroom does look a tad barren. He opts to use the word “minimalist”, though. Even with the small amount of stuff he owns, it took him a while to unpack the boxes. Now that he’s finally finished unpacking his kitchen - the most daunting therefore farthest put off of all the rooms - he’s ready to tidy up and relax.

Seongwoo steps back to admire his work briefly. The kitchen opens into the dining room and even the living room toward the front of the house. It gives the fairly small space the illusion of being way bigger. There’s a couch, a coffee table and a TV in the living room, and the kitchen’s stocked with basic dishes. It’s modest but plenty for just him.

“Good work, Ong,” He compliments himself. It’s probably the tidiest the place is going to be for awhile. At least it will be tidy once he’s finished taking care of the dust. He grabs the broom that’d been leaning against the kitchen counter and starts working. He sweeps bits of cardboard, dust, and packing paper cluster into little dusty mounds. Funky pop plays out of his bluetooth speaker, and his productive cleaning session rapidly devolves into an impromptu karaoke dance session.

“-cause uptown funk gon’ give it to ya!” He shouts into his broom. “Uptown funk gon’ give it to ya! Uptown funk gon give it to ya- don’t believe me just watch-!” Loud trumpets blare through the space as Ong improvises a dance break.

“Don’t believe me just watch,” He mutters. “Don’t believe me just watch, don’t believe just- oh?” Ong squints at the entrance. “Oh crap. Did I forget to close the door?”

  
The front door hangs just ever so slightly ajar and a gentle draft blows in. Ong purses his lips, displeased with his own airheadedness. Figures. Heaving a sigh, he walks over to close the door, but something in the crack freezes him dead in his tracks. Seongwoo completely petrifies on the spot when he spots a set of tiny, dark eyes staring back at him.

Seongwoo gawks, completely awestruck by the sight of a real, living squirrel in his home. For a second, the two stand off, just staring at one one another. Ong wonders if this is when he has some sort of coming to nature moment. Now that he’s away from the city, he can begin to forge a genuine connection with mother earth.

  
Then the fucker moves, and Ong - in spite of being twenty times bigger than the thing - screeches like a schoolgirl. The tiny creature turns into a little brown blur that blends way too well with the wood floors. Seongwoo practically turns his lungs inside out with the gasp he makes. 

“Oh, no. No, no, no!” He groans, trying to find out where the woodland creature scurried off to.

_ “Skitter-skitter-” _ The sound of tiny steps pattering across the floor alerts Ong. His head whips in the direction of the noise as it scuttles toward his kitchen.

“No, no, no!” He grips the broom tightly, waving it in the general direction he thinks the squirrel is in. “No, no, no- not the- no!” He freezes again, and so does the squirrel. Ong tenses watching the fuzzy fucker creep ever so slightly toward the bowl of fruit he’d just put out. 

“Don’t… Don’t you dare,” He mutters authoritatively, narrowing his eyes. 

As if in defiant response, the rodent reaches out one of its tiny, unsettlingly hand-like paws toward an apple. Not just any apple, either. A delicious, juicy, organic, locally sourced, beautiful honeycrisp apple. Honeycrisp apples are basically the queens of the apple world, yet this lowly peasant sees fit brazenly place his profane paws upon her beautifl red bosom.

“Are you serious? You can’t even carry an apple. It’s as big as you are,” Ong huffs.

The squirrel hops straight on top of the apple, never breaking eye contact with the human. Not even in the slightest.

Ong lifts the broom menacingly, “You  _ wouldn’t _ .”

Actually, it would. Would and did. The ballsy creature boldly takes a bite, completely uncaring.

Seongwoo gasps, “How dare you!” A bit delirious from exhaustion and still wired with anxiety, he swings his broom at the crafty vermin. Mother nature can go fuck herself, he decides. It’s one thing to spot wildlife in their natural habitat - the wild. It’s another for wildlife to barge into his home and eat his apples.

_ “Craaash!” _ Ong, graceful, coordinated creature that he is, looses a bit of a handle on his broom, and he ends up sending the entire bowl of fruit flying toward the ground. The squirrel jumps, shimmying up the windows along the back wall. 

“Oh, no you don’t! Get back here you little fucker!” Ong swings again.

_ “Craaash!” “Thud-!” _ There go the freshly hung picture frames. Woops. Normally, he’d be incredibly upset at undoing so much of his hard work, but the fluffy antichrist is still gallivanting around his fucking house, so his priorities are notably different than usual. 

“You motherf-”

A little chirping sound squeaks out of the squirrel that almost sounds like tittering. The damn thing is taunting him. Even with his fairly clumsy handle on his broom-turned-blugeoning-weapon, he manages to route the thing toward the door. He reminds himself to do more cardio as he huffs and puffs, running after the thing. All the while the squirrel leaves a wake of devastation in its path. It knocks remote controls and magazines off of the coffee table, and its little nails even snag the fabric of the ottoman.

“Get out! Out!” Seongwoo shouts sounding less authoritative than he wanted to. Cardio, he tells himself. Cardio. “Wh- What the- No!” 

Instead of going out the front door, the squirrel jumps onto the curtains hanging above the windows on the front wall. Seongwoo balks in utter disbelief at the sheer nerve of this creature. Out of his mind with irritation, he swings the broom at the little shit violently - love for mother nature and all that shit be damned.

“Get out!” He yells at the squirrel.

Yet again, the animal utterly disregards the request of the homeowner and instead of going out, it goes up. It scurries up, up, up until finally reaching the curtain rod. Seongwoo grips his broomstick angrily and strikes the curtain rod with all his might.

_ “Craaash!!”  _

The entire thing somehow dislodges from the hooks above the window and falls onto the ground with another loud sound. Finally, finally, the squirrel takes its leave. The creature bolts out the door.

“Motherfucker!” He throws the broom down furiously and heaves a sigh.

  
It takes him a few minutes to come down from his momentary lapse in sanity. When he does, his jaw drops. He glances around his living quarters in awe of his own impulsive stupidity. There’s broken glass everywhere, rips in his couch and a felled curtain. The things that had been fortunate to remain upright and hung up are all askew in some fashion. 

He’d literally just finished moving in, and he’s already made a massive mess of it all.

_ “Knock. Knock.” _

Also he never bothered to close the door.

Ong jumps, heart leaping into his throat and rendering it impossible to breathe for a second. He swallows nervously as he turns to see who’d knocked on his door. Anxiety tugs at his heart, pulling it out of his throat and down from his chest into his gut. He takes a deep, cleansing breath and dusts himself off before throwing on his best phony smile and opening the door all the way.

The faux grin doesn’t last long. The moment he sets eyes on his house guest, it’s wiped away by an expression of surprise. He’d half expected the busybody Ms. Kim to be the one standing in the doorway bearing a basket of muffins or informational pamphlets about book club. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to greet someone with the visuals of a model.

A tall man with porcelain skin darkens Seongwoo’s doorway. Even though it’s overcast, he’s got a pair of cat-eye sunglasses perched on the bridge of his perfect nose and a black parasol in hand. The temperature outside is mild but still leans toward the warmer side of things. Summer hasn’t quite yet relinquished its grip on the weather, but, apparently, that doesn’t bother this guy. He’s in black, head to toe from the perfectly fitted trousers wrapped around his long legs to the silky black shirt showing off ample decolletage.

The man ducks his head to the side and peeks into the house over Ong’s shoulder. His brows raise, and Seongwoo panics internally. The place is a disaster sight, and that’s the first impression this beautiful god on earth is going to get of Ong Seongwoo.

“My, my,” The gorgeous gentleman gasps.

Ong coughs out, “U-Uh, yeah, I know, um- just moved in, you know?” He laughs awkwardly. “Moving mess and all that.”

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” The man says brightly.

“I- I’m sorry for the m- you what?” Seongwoo’s eyes blow wide open.

“The desication, the danger. How provocative.”

“Wh- It is?”

“Much better than the last people who lived here. They were nice enough, I suppose, but their taste was horrendous. They had a  _ welcome mat _ ,” He scrunches his nose in disgust.

Seongwoo’s brain temporarily shortcuts. He feels like whatever conversation they’re supposed to be having skipped about twenty steps. There was no “hi”, “how are you” or even a “what’s your name”. He opened his door and entirely too many things were thrown at him, none of which he was prepared for. 

“I- I’m sorry, um, I- who- who are you?” Ong tries to put the conversation - if one can even call the interaction a conversation - back on track.

“Wh- Oh, goodness, how rude of me!” The man slides off his cat-eye sunglasses and flashes Seongwoo a charming, fox-like smile. Ong’s heart temporarily stops beating. Luckily, he doesn’t go into cardiac arrest, able to recover his weak spirit as the other introduces himself. “It’s Hwangddams. Minhyun Hwangddams. I’m your neighbor. It’s the gray victorian house next door. Just down the road that way.” He points in the direction of his estate, as if Ong could possibly miss it. Like he doesn’t see the giant mansion and acres of dead grass every time he looks out the window.

The name rings alarm bells in Ong’s head, and Ms. Kim’s warnings echo in his head. She used the words “depraved” and “hotbed of sin” come to mind. However, as he studies the man in front of him, nothing seems to be overtly terrible about him. Maybe he’s simply very artistic and just a little eccentric, Ong theorizes. Ms. Kim certainly doesn’t strike him as an incredibly open-minded person. Maybe she’s the type to think listening to rap music makes a person depraved. If that’s the case, then a beatnik like Minhyun Hwangddams could certainly send her into a tizzy.

“Ong Seongwoo,” Seongwoo introduces himself and extends a hand to the other. They shake, and Ong flashes the other a smile. “I just moved here, um, as you can see.”

“Yes, that’s exactly why I came by!” Minhyun reaches behind himself and picks something off the ground. He gives Ong another heart-melting smile and giddily extends a cast-iron pot of sorts full of… Stuff towards him. Mist billows out of it mysteriously. “We’d like to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Oh, well, thank you!” Seongwoo says, glancing down at the heavy looking pot hanging from the handle gripped in the other’s hand. 

“It’s for you, silly,” Minhyun’s grin is authentic as he lifts the pot.

“Uh- Wait, you mean- you meann this-? This is for me?”

“Yes, of course, take it! A welcome cauldron.”

“It’s a- a welcome caul… A welcome cauldron?” Seongwoo takes it politely even though the weird fog emanating from within puts him off slightly. His arm dips suddenly when he takes the weight. Damn, the thing’s heavy. “W-Wow, this is… Substantial. Very festive for the, um, fall season.” He checks the contents quickly.

  
Bleach. Rat poison. A tiny hand made broom brush. Cleaning supplies, Ong thinks at first. Then, he spots a few other things. Black leather gloves. Pillar candles with faces carved into them. A bottle of Pinot noir. Latin books. Sage bundles. A meat cleaver?

“Just a few basics to get you started off,” Minhyun says sweetly, tearing Seongwoo’s attention away from the peculiarly frothing cauldron. “Every home needs a sturdy cauldron.”

“Right. Of course,” Seongwoo nods in agreement. He’s caught between being alarmed by his gift-cauldron and being hypnotised by the allure of his beautiful neighbor. It’s a strange place to be - one of those “this is a really weird boner” moments for sure. “Um- Thank you, thank you very much. It was really nice of you to think of me.”

Minhyun tilts his head and laughs. God, it’s such a cute, airy sound. The way his eyes squint and shoulders shake is maybe the cutest thing Ong has ever had the privilege of bearing witness to with his own eyes. He tries his best not to swoon.

“Well you know what they say: a good neighbor assures a healthy property value.” Seongwoo laughs courteously. He can’t tell if Minhyun is joking or actually serious. Something about the way he speaks is effortless and airy yet mysterious. “You know, Seongwoo-”

“Um, you can just call me Ong. Most of my friends do, anyway.”

“Ong,” Minhyun pouts his lips and contemplates the name for a moment. He appears to reach some sort of conclusion. What he’d been thinking, Ong has no idea, but a smile blossoms across the man’s petal-like lips again. “What an incredibly strange name.”

“Oh, yeah. I get that a lot. Lots of people get it wrong and stuff,” Seongwoo chuckles sheepishly.

“Why, not even I have heard anything like it. I  _ love _ it.”

“Uh- Thank you,” Heat pricks Ong’s cheeks at the sudden, unanticipated compliment.

“You’ve such destructive style and such an odd name, all wrapped in this rather sad, troubled aura,” Minhyun observes.

“My- My wha-”

“You simply must come over for tea some time.”

“Um-” Once again Ms. Kim’s words ring in the back of his head like the clanging of an old church bell. “Hotbed of sin”. “Depraved”.

“How does tomorrow at midnight sound?”

“Midnight?!” Ong squawks in disbelief.

“Oh, dear, you’re right. How silly of me, that’s a bit early isn’t it. One-thirty in the morning? Two?”

“Midnight is fine,” Seongwoo blurts out.

“Ah, how horrific!” Minhyun beams, clapping his hands happily. “I’ll see you then!”

“Horr- Wha-?”

“Midnight tomorrow!” The beautiful man in black says, already turning around.

“O-Okay,” Seongwoo squeaks out.

“Ta-ta!” Minhyun waves over his shoulder slinking off back toward his estate.

“Y-Yeah. Bye,” Ong mutters weakly, waving until the lithe figure disappears in the distance. He shuts the door hastily after the other’s departure, wary of any other invaders - human or furry. Then, he just stands there and lets everything that just happened sink in.

He just accepted a tea invitation from Minhyun Hwangddams of the Hwangddams family. The apparent rich maniacs who live next-door. The hairs on the back of Ong’s neck stand up, and goosebumps prick his skin.

What has he done?


	3. Just A Kiss Of Arsenic

_ “Aaaaaaaaaaaah!” _

Seongwoo jumps at the sudden screech let out by the Hwangddams’ doorbell. He’s never in his life heard a doorbell that sounded so much like a human’s wails of agony. Though Ong fancies himself a lover of the arts, he has to admit to himself that the avante garde merits of such a doorbell are lost on him. He coughs awkwardly, dusting off his sweater.

Standing in front of the large double doors, Ong can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched. He glances side to side, checking for any sets of eyes, but all he sees is dead grass and barren flower beds. Gray clouds cast the entire estate in grim, dreary light, sapping the color from everything beneath their veil. He’s proud of himself for at least mounting the courage to move tea time up to six. Minhyun left a contact card in his little goodie cauldron that included a phone number to a landline. A rather broody voice answered the phone on behalf of the Hwangddams and informed Ong that the appointment was changed.

_ “Screeeeeeeee-!” _

A loud groaning noise gives Ong another scare. He gasps softly as the heavy doors in front of him swing open slowly. Seongwoo’s jaw drops as more and more of the house comes into view through the open door. The front door opens straight into a grand foyer. Perfectly polished marble tile gleams in the light of the massive chandelier hangin down above the great entrance. Stairs lead to the second floor snake up the sides of the area, adorned with twisty, winding ebony banisters. Ong wonders what the stair’s railing is supposed to look like because to him, the twirly, whirling tendrils look more like tentacles than an abstract architectural feature. Portraits and specimens hang ornately patterned walls.

“We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Ong,” A man by the door says sullenly.

Ong coughs and sputters, “Wh- Oh- Oh my I- I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you there. I’m- I’m sorry.” He eyes the man who’d answered the door.

Seongwoo wonders if the greenish tone to the man’s pallid complexion is just his imagination or not. He’s short but well proportioned with a surprisingly handsome face. His hair is slicked back, and his clothing matches the rest of the decor: black and white.

“Please, come in,” The gentleman invites Ong in with a wave.

“R-Right. Thank you,” Ong mutters, scuttling inside. The doors shut behind him with a loud groan that echoes loudly through the entry hall. Dread tugs at Ong’s guts, pulling them further and further with each step he takes in. Entirely too many of the furniture and decor pieces have eyes, and all of them appear to be watching him as he wanders into the mansion. The walls are packed with things like moose heads and eerie portraits, and full suits of armor wielding menacingly sharp weapons decorate the base of the staircase.

“This way,” The man who’d greeted Ong ushers him further into the mansion.

  
“O-Okay, right,” Seongwoo clamors to the other’s side. Like hell is he gonna allow himself to get lost in the place. “Hey, I didn’t catch your name, by the way. I’m Ong Seongwoo- though you probably already know that. I mean, you said it.” Ong coughs awkwardly.

His escort nods, “Yes, I know. I answered the phone.”

  
“Oh, that was you!”

“Yes. My name is Ha Sungwoon. I’ve served the Hwangddams family for generations,” He replies cooly.

“Generations?” Ong’s brows raise incredulously. The guy - Sungwoon, that’s his name - probably mean this family has served the estate for generations. There’s no way he’s a day over twenty-five. “Wow.”

Ong follows him down a hallway that he’s pretty sure is actually technically a corridor because it’s so long. Framed bug specimens and animal skulls decorate line the black and purple striped walls all the way down to where the corridor opens up into a dining room. When Seongwoo finally emerges, he’s met with the sight of a surprisingly airy kitchen area. There’s still copious amounts of black, but large windows let in ample light. Key furniture pieces such as the dining room table and chairs are surprisingly a worn, ashy off-white instead of adding to the drudgery of black everywhere. Beyond the dining table is the kitchen proper, ashen gray cabinets topped with dark marble and enough glass bottles to rival an apothecary. Tiny accents even provide pops of color: a little green jar here, a flash of rust-colored velvet there. It’s easily the most normal space Ong has seen yet.

Well, almost.

The table spread is extravagent to say the least. There are dozens of candles varying in height and thickness sitting in the middle, all lit with wax dripping down onto the wood. Thorny dead roses are heaped generously between the candles. Seongwoo’s not sure what alarms him more: the fire hazard of the dead plants right next to flames or the massive thorns.

“Good evening,” An airy, warm voice calls out from the kitchen. Minhyun Hwangddams, the very personification of temptation, glides from his post in the kitchen to the table, a plate of pastries in his hand.

“H-Hello- Hi,” Seongwoo waves awkwardly. Nailed it, he thinks.

“Please, take a seat. Tea’s just finished brewing,” The man is fetching as ever, black shirt and pants beautifully hugging his slender body. 

  
“O-Okay,” Seongwoo obliges. He pulls out a chair for himself - an antique upholstered roundback that probably costs more than all of his furniture combined. “Thank you for having me.” Why, why, why did I agree to this - he asks himself. Nerves jitter in his stomach, dancing around restlessly. Minhyun slinks back off to the kitchen, and Ong takes the time away from the other’s scrutinizing gaze to psych himself up. He reminds himself:

  
This is just a courteous, neighborly visit. Nothing can go wrong. Probably. And that family portrait was not watching you. He takes a deep breath and repeats the not very reassuring mantra over and over. Even with the semi-deep breathing exercises, he still feels his anxiety skitter beneath his skin. It tickles from his tummy to his heart, up his shoulder and... Down his arm? Ong’s eyes shoot to his arm, and his entire body petrifies with complete panic. There’s a spider on his arm. A big, fat, hairy spider. His mouth flaps open and closed, but he can’t even muster the will to let out a pathetic yelp.

“Oh, dear!” Minhyun gasps, rushing back to the table with an fancifully crafted silver tea pot in hand. He sets the pot down and waves at the spider furiously, “Noah, down! Down!” He furrows his brows and crosses his arms, repeating sternly: “Noah. Down.”

Finally, the massive arachnid skitters away, shuffling off of Ong’s arm to who knows where. (He sure as hell doesn’t want to know.)

“Oh my,” Minhyun shakes his head in disapproval, “I do apologize for that.”

“It’s- it’s fine?” Seongwoo squeaks out, definitely not on the verge of tears or anything.

“You know how spiders are. So difficult to train.”

“I- Mm- Yeah- yes? They… Are?” Ong coughs. His brain temporarily short-circuits upon truly digesting the other man’s words. So Minhyun also is a lover of arachnids and insects. That certainly would explain the gratuitious amount of specimens adorning the walls. That’s not too weird. Right? 

Okay. So maybe it’s incredibly strange - but there is nothing inherently wrong with that, Ong decides. The man graciously invited him into his beautiful (albeit slightly eerie) home. Seongwoo figures the least he can do is be polite and indulge the man. Luckily, “bullshit” is Ong’s middle name, and he picks his shattered nerves off the ground with a neckbreaking pace that even impresses himself. 

Seongwoo shrugs, “They are. I mean,  _ I _ certainly have never succeeded in domesticating one.”

“They’re very independent, moody creatures,” Minhyun says, taking a seat. Sungwoon, who’d been standing at the threshold of the corridor paces over and begins pouring tea into a set of black and gold lacquer cups sitting atop matching saucers. “I told the boys if they wanted a spider, they had to be responsible, but, well,” Minhyun shrugs. “You know how children can be.”

“R-Right. Right, of course,” The kids. Ong forgot about the kids. He remembers hearing about them briefly - the image of Ms. Kim likening them to the spawns of stan bubbles up in his memory again. He strikes the thought, reminding himself to be polite, dammit. “How many kids do you have? How old?”

“Two are at nine years old - my little Guanlin and Daehwi. Then my oldest, Jinyoung, is ten.”

“Wow. Three kids,” Ong moves to blow some steam off of his piping hot cup of tea. When he goes in to take a whiff, he can’t help noticing the deep, crimson tone. “Uh- What- what kind of tea is this?”

“It’s an herbal blend,” Minhyun replies with a smile. “I made it myself. It has roses, rosehips, hibiscus, a kiss of arsenic, black tea leaves-”

  
“Wait, I’m sorry, did you say a kiss of-”

“So, Ong,” Minhyun says, taking a sip of tea. “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Huh? A- A little bit about me?” His ears flush from the sudden shift of attention to him.

“Yes. What brought you to our dreary corner of the neighborhood? What do you do for a living? Any dark secrets? Skeletons in the closet? Bodies, perhaps?” Minhyun asks in a soft tone.

  
“Oh, um, no skeletons in my closet or bodies in the closet. Haven’t had the time to unpack them yet.” The handsome host giggles at that one, and Ong’s heart swells a little bit with pride and satisfaction.

“And what is it you do?”

“I work in tech. Software engineer. Building programs and all that.”

“ _ Fascinating _ . To be honest, that world is a bit beyond me. My nine year old has walked me through how to use a smartphone dozens of times, but-” Minhyun shrugs, “-to me nothing can beat a good old-fashioned bird of prey.”

“Right,” Ong goes along with it. “That’s- that’s fine. It’s not for everyone, technology.”

“So, did you move here for a job from somewhere else, or-?”

“I actually just sort of shifted, really. I work in the city, but the rent here was much more reasonable.”

“Ah, that’s understandable. Especially the property you’ve got. Occasionally we recieve letters notifying us of the declining rates in the area... I can’t imagine why.”

Seongwoo chuckles, “Well, I just got here, so your guess is as good as mine. Oh, um, what about you? What’s your day to day like?”

Minhyun grins fondly and cradles his cup, “Homemaker, nowadays. Managing affairs of the house, rearing the children, coordinating the social calendar, appeasing the spirits that have tethered their immortal souls to the grounds with ritual sacrifice- you know. House husband stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. For- for sure,” Seongwoo replies with a smile. Cognitive dissonance runs rampant in his brain. On one hand, he hears strange, offputting, even worrying wods come from the other’s mouth. On the other hand: they’re delivered in such a genuinely sweet, sincere manner from such a captivating human that he’s content to just toss his reservations out the door. “Do you enjoy it? Being the house husband, I mean. From what little I see, you definitely seem good at it.”

Minhyun’s ears tint and he laughs, “You caught me. I used to be a wild child, you know.”

“Oh, really? I couldn’t imagine it,” Ong jokes. He lifts his tea cup but hastily halts before tipping its contents into his lips.

“Goodness, I used to be up into the wee hours of daylight, seeking out the dark forces to join in their hellish crusades. But, fate has a funny way of putting the wrong people in front of you at the worst of times.”

“What happened?” Ong asks, eyes wide.

“My husband, of course,” Minhyun smiles again. 

“I’m  _ home _ !” A singsong voice booms from the great room, bouncing all the way down the corridor into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” “Daddy’s home!” “Dad-!” Little voices trickle down afterwards - the boys, probably.

“Oh- Speak of the devil. He’s home early today,” Minhyun says. 

The chorus of voices travel. They transition from echoey to sharper, louder as the rambunctious kids and their indulgent father make their way down the corridor toward the kitchen. Ong stands up - it feels like the mannerly thing to do in the moment. He steps forward to meet the prodigal husband, however a blur of bouncy bodies zips by first, practically sending him on his ass.

“-Daddy’s home!” “-Papa, can I have tablet time now?” “Papa, Daehwi’s being mean!” “Daddy, daddy, daddy-”

“Settle, settle,” Their other father says - the one they like to call Daddy (Minhyun is apparently Papa). The man has a surprisingly disarming appearance. Not that Seongwoo wants to shade the man; he just expected someone impossibly suave to be married to a total vixen like Minhyun. Instead the beauty’s other half is sort of… Adorable. He’s shorter, and his features are a bit softer - round cheeks, pointed ears, a heart-shaped mouth, eyes Ong would almost describe as puppy-like. Even so, the man’s pinstripe suit fits him to a tee, and outlining his demure features is a sharpness. 

Minhyun slowly rises from his seat, and it’s clear that every ounce of his attention has officially shifted, “My darling Jaehwan.”

“My love,” Minhyun’s husband - Jaehwan Hwangddams, apparently - responds in a low voice. He extends a hand toward his beloved, and Minhyun graciously takes it. 

  
Seongwoo’s mouth drops open in shock as he watches Jaehwan trail fervent kisses from Minhyun’s wrist all the way up his arm. Nuclear passion radiates off of the pair so intensely Seongwoo can feel it from where he’s standing. Minhyun’s head lolls back; his eyes flutter shut and the tips of his lips quirk up.

“My dear,” Minhyun purrs. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, but  _ on the devil _ does the deprivation make your touch sear so much more gloriously.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait any longer. Every second we spend apart is excrutiating,” Jaehwan says. He combs hand through Minhyun’s hair, and the two gaze at one another fondly for a few moments. Then, they collide, a frenzy of little groans and locking lips.

Seongwoo’s eyes blow wide open, and all he can think to do to endure the profoundly awkward moment is to grab his cup of tea and take a sip. It occurs to him that there are children present, and he glances around to see just how they’re coping with it. Two of them apparently snuck off to the kitchen. Ong meets gazes with number three - the longest and lankiest of them all.

“In case you’re wondering: yes. They’re always like this,” The kid huffs, rolling his eyes. Ong doesn’t blame him in the least. He’s pretty sure he’d be done with his parents’ bullshit if they pulled this often.

The happy couple finally detaches from one another, and that’s when Minhyun turns to Ong, arm slung around his husband’s waist, “Ong, this is my husband, Jaehwan. Jaehwan, this is the new neighbor.”

“Ong,” Jaehwan mutters. “What a strange name.”

“I know,” Minhyun beams. “It’s downright peculiar isn’t it?”

“Spectacular,” Jaehwan smiles. He steps over to Seongwoo.

Ong holds out his hand to shake Jaehwan’s, but the man in the suit steps in for a hug. Jaehwan wraps his arms around Seongwoo snugly and he presses his lips against Ong’s cheek.

“Nice to meet you my man,” Jaehwan says. He gives Ong a pat on the shoulder.

“Daddy!” “Dad!” “Papa-” “Daddy, Daehwi is being mean-” “No I’m not!”

The two who’d slunk off to the kitchen quicky trot over to their parents yet again.

“Now, now,” Minhyun addresses his children sternly yet softly. They fall in line obediently, grumbling amongst themselves. “We have a new guest. What do we do when we have guests?”

“Tie them up,” One of the boys says.

“Not without their consent, dear,” Minhyun corrects the child. “No, we say hello.”

“Oh.” “Oh, yeah.” “Right.”

“U-Um, hello,” The one who greets him first is by far the tiniest. He’s petite, and his pin-straight hair nearly covers his eyes. He twiddles with the hem of his striped sweater. “I’m Jinyoung.”

The one next to him has lighter brown hair. He has a more stark, confident air to him, standing upright and looking Ong in the eye, “Daehwi. Nice to meet you.”

He glances at the third - the disillusioned boy who’d spoken to him before. He’s tall and raily, clearly growing vertically before he does horizontally. He sticks out starkly among the others with his pink tee and sweatpants. The boy pouts and casts his eyes to the ground.

“Guanlin,” Minhyun asserts, nudging the boy.

The boy - Guanlin - mumbles, “Hi, I’m Guanlin.”

“Oh- Oh, Hi. I’m Ong Seongwoo, your neighbor,” Seongwoo waves and smiles.

“Hi.” “Nice to meet you.” “Hello.” The children murmur. The second their proprietary greetings conclude, they’re pestering Dad yet again. “Can I have tablet time now?” “Dad, Daehwi’s being mean-” “Am not.” “Please?” “Are too!” “Please-”

“Enough,” Minhyun raises his voice just ever so slightly. “One at a time, please. Now, since you’re the oldest - Jinyoung, you first.” He turns to the boy in the striped sweater.

Jinyoung sniffles, an adorable pouton his face, “Daehwi’s being mean, Papa.” He tells Minhyun.

“I object!” Daehwi pipes up next to his brother. “I am not being mean. Jinyoung’s being a wimp. He won’t let me play autopsy on him.”

Seongwoo wonders if autopsy is some new hip video game that the kids are playing these days.

“Papa I’m always the corpse!” Jinyoung retorts, “Always!”

Daehwi brandishes a saw that he pulled from somewhere and points it menacingly toward his brother, “It’s because you’re so good at it.”

Even Ong winces when he sees the nine year old brandish a bone saw. He tries to reign back his impulse to gasp. Or run and hide.

“R-Really?”

  
“Yes, really,” The other nods.

“I don’t think so!” Minhyun cuts in insistently. Seongwoo’s brows raise incredulously. Is this when he finally sees things take a turn toward the sane? Minhyun shakes his head and grabs the bone saw out of Daehwi’s hand. “No respectable coroner would use a bone saw to make their initil incisions.” Heaving a sigh, Minhyun reaches into a pocket and withdraws a tiny exacto knife - no. Wait. That’s scalpel.

“What does the doctor say?” Minhyun asks.

Daehwi sticks his hand out, “Scalpel.”

“That’s better,” Minhyun says. “Now off you go!”

“Kay-kay!” “Thanks Papa!” The two skip down the corridor giddily.

“What was it you wanted, Guanlin?” Minhyun asks the last one remaining.

He sighs sulkily, “I was wondering if I could use my tablet now. I finished my homework.” Seongwoo watches the child with interest. It’s ironic - his clothing is the brightest, but his mood is the gloomiest of them all.

“Of course, love,” Minhyun says. “Thank you for asking. You know where we keep them - ”

“Yeah,” Guanlin. “Thanks!”

Minhyun sighs drearily, watching his child until the very second he disappears around the corner, “Oh, our little Guanlin, how I worry about him.”

“Don’t you worry, dear,” Jaehwan responds to his husband reassuringly. “He’s still got his Hwangddams sensibilities. It’s in his blood.”

“As you can see,” Minhyun says to Ong, “Our little Guanlin’s going through a bit of a phase. Wearing bright colors, playing basketball, rap music. ” He purses his lips glumly.

“Now, don’t get us wrong,” Jaehwan tells the visitor, “We respect and encourage a rebellious phase.”

“We’re so proud that he’s trying to find himself and be an individual,” Minhyun adds. “But I can’t help being nostalgic for the days where he used to sit on my lap during family taxidermy nights.” He grieves, “Now he wants to be in student council.”

“That’s very... Political,” Seongwoo nods hesitantly in agreement. He never had strong feelings about student government during his school days, but he imagines it can’t be that bad. At least the couple isn’t barring their child for exploring his identity in his “rebellious phase”.

“Minhyun, mi amor,” Jaehwan turns to his husband again, “I need to tune the pipe organ before mercury goes into retrograde.”

“Of course, my dear,” Minhyun wraps his long arms around Jaehwan’s shoulders and pulls him into another passionate kiss.

  
Seongwoo’s cheeks prickle with embarrassment, and a pang of envy knocks at his chest. The Hwangddams are certainly unconventional, but the love they have for one another is undeniable. He wonders if anyone will ever miss him like that when he goes to work - or even just across the house to tune the pipe organ.


	4. Any Time

Ong purses his lips as he swipes on his phone. Some teen drama drones on in the background. It serves its purpose of being extraneous noise while he tries to think of something meaningful to do. His hair is still damp from his post-gym shower, and he’d meal prepped so cooking was a breeze. It’s barely nine o’clock but he’s already considering just going to bed. This must be what it feels like to be old, he muses to himself. He swears, back when he had more energy, in the days of his youth, he’d be pursuing some intellectual or artistic endeavor. Maybe he’d have taken up painting if he had the time. Perhaps he’d have read a book. Now, he just feels like a drained battery at the end of his days.

_ “Knock! Knock! Knock!” _

“Wh-Shii-” Ong hisses, body seizing up in the corner of his couch as his heart stops.

_ “Knock! Knock! Knock!” _

The insistent rapping continues. It sounds like whoever is knocking really needs Seongwoo. Heart still beating rapidly, Ong gets off of the cough and wraps the blanket he’d been swaddled in around his shoulders. He plods over to his front door and flicks on the porch light. Hesitantly, he opens the door open - just a crack at first.

“H-Hello,” Seongwoo swallows nervously. 

“Ong?” An airy, genial voice calls to him.

Seongwoo’s tension uncoils upon realizing that the black clad figure darkening his doorstep is none other than Minhyun Hwangddams, the handsome house-husband from next door.

“Oh, h-hey,” Seongwoo replies more breathily than he’d intended. Minhyun flashes him a little grin that could be described as coy or beguiling - however, at this point Ong assumes that’s just how Minhyun looks. Even without trying to, he’s got an effortless, unintentional allure to him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so early in the night,” Minhyun says, “But I wouldn’t unless it was absolutely urgent.”

“Uh- It’s no problem at all. Do you need to come in-” Ong gestures inside.

“Perhaps another time. Actually, I must be off expediently. Something’s come up with the estate. Sungwoon needs to drive Jaehwan and I need to tend to it immediately.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Seongwoo frowns. “Um, what can I do to help?”

“Well, I know this is an imposition, but I’m in desperate need of a sitter. Our boys are very self-sufficient, however we just don’t feel comfortable leaving them without adult supervision. Unfortunately, our last sitter left and it’s so hard to find someone you trust.”

“Wait, so you want me to babysit them?” Ong points to himself, dumbfounded. Ms. Kim’s words play through his head, the woman’s last ominous warning: “ _ never _ , under  _ any _ circumstances, agree to babysit those spawns of satan they call children”. 

“It would mean the world to Jaehwan and I,” Minhyun says. His typical, easygoing demeanor falters, revealing a wordless desperation. He clutches at his breast and worries at his lower lip, searching Ong’s face earnestly for an answer. Unconventional as Minhyun Hwangddams may be, it’s clear to Seongwoo that the man loves his children very much.

“Of course,” Seongwoo says. He swears he can hear the bell of his death knell in the backgroun. Actually, no - it’s just the clocktower on the Hwangddams house. He can’t say he finds it any less harrowing. “Do you want to bring them over here, or-”

“No, no,” Minhyun’s cool manner returns quickly, and he reaches into his pocket to pull out a coin purse that looks eerily like a toad with a clasp fixed to its mouth. “I think they will be most comfortable at home. I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you with bringing children into your home. Now, I know this is short notice, but of course you will be compensated.” He shoves a cluster of bills into Ong’s hand.

Seongwoo checks the folded bills and chokes.

Minhyun just handed him two million won. Two million won in cold, hard cash.

Minhyun, catching on to Ong’s shock, raises his brows inquisitively, “I’m sorry, is- is that enough? I can give-”

“That’s fine,” Seongwoo squeaks out. “Just- just lemme get some things.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Minhyun beams. “Thank you so much, you’re an absolute life-ender.”

* * *

Once upon a time, Ong Seongwoo dreamed of perhaps rearing a few children of his own. He’s always had this mental image of him and a handsome partner with a cute baby in tow. He’d have the perfect excuse to go watch all the cute cartoon movies in the theaters and ride all the kiddy rides at amusement parks. Obviously, there’d be challenges, but in his dreamy fantasy of a nuclear family, those challenges would be tackled together, hand in hand with his partner. The family would laugh, play, and make memories. Ong and his companion would embarrass the shit out of their child and, consequently, their child would throw fits and probably rebel as a teen. It’s probably the most pathetically basic, conventional fantasy a person could possibly have, but Seongwoo never let go of it.

Now, though, now that idea that having children would be fun is being tested.

Of course, Ong quickly came to learn that the Hwangddams children are far from normal. Hell, that much was apparent from the first time he set eyes on them. That being said, he did not enter the Hwangddam’s family manse expecting the sequence of events that followed.

“Hey- hey!” Seongwoo speaks to Daehwi in a chiding tone. “Jesus was not gagged when he died.” The boy narrows his eyes, slowly lowering the strip of duct tape he’d intended to place over Ong’s mouth.

When Seongwoo walked in initially, Minhyun informed him that it was movie time, then they’d take baths and go to bed. The laid out timeline sounded completely easy and manageable - the kids would be asleep for the majority of his stay in the house. However, when Seongwoo entered the living room, he gasped in horror to see that the kids’ sleepytime movie choice turned out to be Nightmare on Elm Street. Seongwoo tried his very best to be stern yet reasonable, suggesting the kids choose something more wholesome or educational for their bedtime story. It quickly became clear to Ong that Daehwi is the leader of the pack. Jinyoung happily does anything his brother tells him to, and Guanlin just ignores both of them and watches hip-hop videos on youtube.

Daehwi shocked Ong when he yielded with ease, agreeing to put on Passion of the Christ. Seongwoo never thought of it as a kid’s movie - nor did he think in a million years that the Hwangddams family was religious at all - but he couldn’t really argue. It did, after all, fit the criteria as “more wholesome” and “educational”. He thought: What could possibly go wrong?

And it is that precise erroneous thought that resulted in him getting duct tape crucified on the wall.

“Jesus didn’t mouth off, either,” Daehwi says. He jabs a finger in Ong’s direction and barks., “Thirty lashings for the prisoner!” Daehwi reaches under a chair and withdraws a horse whip - why was that even there?! Ong doesn’t want to know. The child starts snapping his wrist, cutting air with the leather tassels and making a loud sound echo across the living room.

“No!” Jinyoung fake-cries, a sheet draped over his head in resemblance of the Mother Mary, “Not my son! My boy!” Jinyoung throws himself at Seongwoo’s feet, adorable little face scrunched into a facade of pure agony. (Ong has to hand it to him, he’s pretty good knack for theater.)

“Crucify him! Crucify him!” Daehwi shouts menacingly, baring his whip toward his brother now.

“No! Take me instead! Take me!” Jinyoung cries.

  
All the while, Guanlin plays Minecraft on his tablet in the corner, headphones in, completely oblivious. Good for him, Ong thinks.

_ “Craaack!” _ “Crucify him!”

“Nooo-!”

“Crucify him! Crucify him!”

“No, God, why? Why?!”

“Crucify him- Guanlin, you were supposed to be the prison guard,” Daehwi gripes at the youngest.

“Fuck off,” The youngest spits back. Yikes. There’s a mouth on that one.

“Ugh- It’s so hard to find good help these days,” Daehwi groans before cracking the whip again. Seongwoo flinches, just barely feeling the whip’s tassels ghost his leg. 

“Nooo!” Jinyoung cries, awkwardly hugging Ong’s bound legs. Seongwoo realizes that his legs are rather hairy, and that duct tape is rather sticky. He winces just thinking about how that’s going to feel to take off.

“Crucify him-” “No!” “Can you keep it down?” “Crucify him! Crucify him!” “Not my boy, take me-!”

_ “Screeeeeeee-!” “Craaaash!” _ A loud, groaning noise followed by the distinct crack of thunder cuts through the chaos.

“We’re home!” Jaehwan’s voice rings loud and clear from the grand foyer.

“Papa! Daddy!” “Papa and dad are home!” The two thespians drop their roles abruptly and dash toward the entrance. Guanlin, completely uncaring, stays put.

“How are my boys?” “Did you have a good time with Mr. Ong?” Ong can hear their voices echo from around the corner.

“Where is Mr. Ong?” Seongwoo hears Minhyun’s voice ask.

“I’m- I’m over here!” Seongwoo shouts back. Thankfully the living room (at least, the one he’d been situated in) isn’t down some windy corridor. It’s relatively close to the entrance, just through a formal parlor and around a corner. Ong can hear footsteps approach shortly after.

“Oh  _ my _ ,” Minhyun gasps when he enters the living room. He’s got Jinyoung perched on one arm, and even though the kid’s fairly old, he’s so tiny that his willowy Papa can bounce him with ease. Daehwi stands beside his Daddy, who Ong suspects he takes more after. Minhyun grins at Seongwoo warmly, “It looks like you all had a lot of fun. Guanlin-” He calls out to the youngest.

There’s no answer.

“Guanlin,” Minhyun says more firmly.

Still no answer.

Jaehwan picks up the slack, inhaling deeply and singing,“Guanliiiiiiiii-” He draws out the last vowel into a high legato note. 

The note draws out for an impressively long time. Like, really impressively. Ong wonders if Jaehwan had been classically trained. The sitter glances over at the youngest, who clearly hears his Daddy’s plea for attention. Guanlin’s face reddens, and his brows knit together as he grows progressively more and more irritated. Finally, he throws his headphones off and answers.

“Yes, dad?” He asks.

Jaehwan’s intonation halts abruptly, and he speaks in a casual voice, “We’re home.”

Guanlin grumbles, “Hi papa, hi dad.”

“Darling,” Minhyun says softly, “It’s bath time.”

“Yes, sir,” Guanlin replies sulkily. He trudges over to his parents’ side and gives them each a brief hug before walking off.

“Oh, dear,” Minhyun shakes his head. He turns to Jinyoung who’s already nodding off in his arms, “Off you go, my little bat out of hell. Sungwoon is drawing your baths.”

“Mn,” Jinyoung nods sleepily, sliding out of his Papa’s hold and stumbling back toward the foyer. 

“You, too, Daehwi,” Minhyun says. “I’ll be up to read you a horror story before you go to sleep.”

“Yes, Papa,” Daehwi nods. He starts out of the room but pauses and glances over his shoulder at Ong, “Good night Mr. Ong.”

“Oh-” Ong lets out a dry laugh. By reflex, he tries to wave goodbye, but given that his hand is bound to the wall with duct tape, the gesture comes out slightly stunted. “-Night Daehwi.” He tries his best, grinning at the boy as he leaves. Minhyun heaves a sigh of relief, and the couple cross the living room over to Seongwoo.

“I have to thank you again,” Minhyun says, working on one side while Jaehwan works on the other. Daehwi was damn thorough, and there’s more than a few layers of tape holding Ong up. Even so, the two diligently work to remove the tape piece by piece. “Coming by on such short notice.”

“You really saved our heads,” Jaehwan adds. “Ah, Daehwi, my boy. He certainly did a number on you, didn’t he?”

“Oh, it- it wasn’t any trouble,” Seongwoo laughs it off. Nerves toss and tumble in his guts, and he’s not sure if it’s his anxiety regarding the house, the company, or their proximity to him. He can feel Minhyun’s breath tickle his wrist, and Jaehwan - for how boisterous he acts - has the prettiest, most delicate fingers working deftly to undo the tape. Devastation and shame piles on top of his nervousness when he fully understands just how damn thirsty he is. They’re  _ married _ , fuck’s sake.

“Such a pity to undo all of his hard work,” Minhyun comments. “Especially considering how ravishing you look like this, Seongwoo.”

Ong chokes on his own spit, sputtering and coughing. His eyes shoot to Jaehwan as guilt fills him to the brim. Surely he can’t be happy hearing that from his husband.

Jaehwan chuckles, peeling back another strip of duct tape, “I’m relieved I wasn’t the only one thinking it.”

Seongwoo boils from the inside out. Heat runs up his toes and pools in his stomach and cheeks.

“You look as if you were born to be tied up,” Minhyun purrs. “Tell me, Ong, do you do this often?”

“Uh- N-no,” Seongwoo replies, burning up in a stew of too many emotions to comprehend.

“What a pity,” Jaehwan responds in a blasse manner.

“Oh, y-y’know adulthood. It’s always harder to find time to pursue your hobbies,” Seongwoo quips.

“I completely understand,” Minhyun responds seriously.

After a few more minutes of diligent tape removal, Seongwoo finally comes free. He practically face plants onto the hard wood floor, but the gracious couple saves him, each one grabbing an arm. Being tangled between the two further disturbs the roiling cocktail of odd, unwelcome feelings in Seongwoo’s gut, so he tries to wiggle out of their grasp quickly. If they notice his flusterment or find his manner rude, they’re kind enough not to comment on it.

“I know we’ve said it so many times before, but from the bottom of our graves: thank you, Seongwoo,” Minhyun tells Ong as he walks him to the door. “I can tell the children had a wonderful time. You’ve even managed to win over Daehwi, and he’s a hard skull to crack.”

“Oh, um, it’s not a big deal,” Seongwoo coughs awkwardly. “Just glad to be of service. Any time, really.”

“You don’t know how grateful I am to hear that,” Minhyun glows at the polite words.

They bid farewell, and Seongwoo treks across the dead lawn until it gives way to the lush,g reen grass of his own property. He heaves a sigh and throws himself onto the couch, screaming into a pillow. He stays there, highly unnmotivated to move. He probably would’ve fallen asleep there, too, if he didn’t realize what he actually said to Minhyun.

“Any time” he said.

Any time.

“Oh shit,” Seongwoo bursts up, eyes wide and heart pounding.


	5. Meetings

Seongwoo ducks, nonchalantly dodging the axe that Daehwi chucked straight at his face.

Strangely enough, he’s gotten sort of used to the eccentric Hwangddams family. They’re wacky, but they’re nice.

Also their babysitting gig pays better than most entry-level jobs.

“Daehwi, what’s the rule about throwing axes in the kitchen?” Ong chides the child semi-sternly. He’d brought the kids in to prepare an evening snack. Jinyoung happily bounces in his chair at the table while Guanlin stares at his tablet.

“Don’t miss?” Daehwi replies with a raised brow.

“That’s the spirit,” Ong replies with a chuckle, dislodging the old hatchet from the wall beside him. He sets it down on the counter and finishes cutting apples into slices.

  
When Seongwoo told Minhyun “any time”, he feared that the spacey man would pop in at a moment’s notice and ask Ong to come watch the kids while he and Jaehwan went to feed piranhas or something. However, such an occasion never came about. Instead, Minhyun called days in advance, always offering gracious compensation.

Ong - people-pleasing creature that he is - could never find it in himself to deny the beautiful eccentric and ultimately always found himself at the Hwangddams mansion on the agreed upon date. The children have thrown him his fair share of curve balls, almost all of which hit Seongwoo in the face given that that’s his luck. Over the past couple of months, Seongwoo has been strapped to electric chairs, laid down on guillotines, hung upside down, nearly been blown up - the list goes on, but he’s come out alive every time! A testament to the fact that they “really do adore you Ong” as Minhyun always tells him with fondness in his eyes. Seongwoo pities the sitters they didn’t like.

Jaehwan is a lesser known presence to Seongwoo. He’s the breadmaker, managing the estate and doing… Well, Ong doesn’t know what else he does. He’s pretty sure he saw Jaehwan practice guitar once. And sword fighting another time. He’s eccentric and animated, but there’s a down to earth side to him. Sometimes, at the end of the night when the kids have been put to bed, Seongwoo talks to the guy - really talk to him - and he realizes that Jaehwan isn’t all quirks and quips. He’s a humble, loving man who wants nothing more than to protect his family. (He’s also damn good at guitar, too.)

Perhaps the most surprising thing to Seongwoo is the fact that the Hwangddams family - with all of their unconventional, almost questionable ways - somehow manage to be less scary and stressful than his day job. They’re always thrilled to see him, and they treat him with the utmost respect. They pay him well and heap him with compliments as he leaves. Sure, sometimes he finds himself covered in scorpions when he wakes himself up for a nap and, yes, the random organ music that seems to play from nowhere is sort of creepy - but ultimately it adds to the character of the family home.

“How did your history presentation go, Daehwi?” Ong asks as he dishes out plates of apple slices.

“It left a lot to be desired,” The gloomy pack leader of the three sulks. “The teacher didn’t let me finish. He only let me stab my Julius Ceaser dummy twice,” The kid shakes his head. “It was terribly inaccurate.”

“Aw, sorry, bud,” Seongwoo flashes him a concilliatory grin and sets the plate down in front of him.

_ “Screeeeeeeeeeeeech-!!” _

The thunderous groaning of the door roars through the corridors, echoing into the kitchen.

“Oh, your parents are home early,” Ong’s brows raise in surprise. The Hwangddams couple had only left for their seance and tea party a few hours ago.

Jaehwan’s voice, loud and clear like the call of a siren, rings into the kitchen from down the hall as he shouts, “Children, I’m  _ hooooooooooooooooooooo- _ ” He holds out the vowel of home like an opera tenor.

“Papa, Daddy!” “Welcome home.” “Papa. Dad.” The children greet their parents. 

Minhyun and Jaehwan glide in, disentangling from one another to shower their children with hugs and kisses. Seongwoo sort of wishes he was a kid. It’s been a hot minute since anyone’s given him that type of affection without an agenda. There’s always some type of baggage or hidden agenda. Even if it’s not just a hump and dump situation, the pressure of dates - knowing people his age are starting to settle down and get married - sometimes makes everything feel forced. On the contrary, the Hwangddams make loving seem so easy, so effortless.

“How were they, Ong?” Minhyun asks, a wide grin on his face as he side hugs Jinyoung.

“Terrible,” Seongwoo replies.   
  


“Oh, I’m so glad to hear,” The willowy man chuckles. “For you?” He reaches into his silky black shirt and withdraws a dark envelope.

“Hm?” Ong’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Oh, no- you already paid me-”

“I know,” Minhyun chuckles.

Seongwoo takes the extended envelope, marvelling at the gorgeous, twirling script that adorns the letter, reading his name. Seongwoo glances at the Hwangddams couple dubiously. The pair watch him eagerly, waiting for him to open his letter. That… Doesn’t bode well. Knowing the family, there could very well be a colony of ants under the envelope’s flap. Last time he got an innocuous offering, it was in the form of a small box. He opened it expectring some kooky trinket only to have hundreds of infant spiderlings crawling up his arm. While he appreciated the thought, he’s been wary of accepting little tokens from them ever since.

Cautiously, Seongwoo flips open the envelope. We flinches reflexiviely, waiting for creepy crawlies or anthrax to explode out of the gold-lined envelope. His shoulders slump with relief when he sees a lone slip of parchment-like paper. He shoots the couple a cursory glance before proceeding, and they nod to encourage him to take out the letter.

Seongwoo unfolds it, reading the drippy calligraphy anxiously. His brows raise with pleasant surprise.

“An invitation?” He asks. Minhyun and Jaehwan beam.

“To our annual Halloween Soiree!” Minhyun exclaims. “All the family and friends come and stay, it’s an absolute riot!” 

“A real scream,” Jaehwan adds.

“The most exhiliratingly horrific orgyastic kerfuffle of the year,” Minhyun beams.

“O-Oh, wow, okay,” Seongwoo replies with a grin. He’s flattered. He didn’t exactly have plans for Halloween. Most of his friends from college have moved away or are busy. He considered drinking with somework buddies, but a Hwangddams party? The thought is mildly terrifying yet also incredibly tempting. Seongwoo has never seen the Hwangddams family drink or, well, do anything truly scandalous surprisingly. However, he gets the vibe that they’re people who know how to party. He squints, reading the fine print beneath his name:

“Ong Seongwoo and +1”

His lips purse into a pout at that. The dreaded, enigmatic plus one. Dating in modern times is akin to the wild west in Ong’s eyes. He’s fortunate to be blessed with genetics that always keep his calendar busy if he wants it to be. But quantity definitely doesn’t assure quality. He’s noticed that few people seem interested in a genuine connection. Either people want to get laid or they want a ring they can show off to their friends. He supposes he could ask Woojin to borrow Jihoon for a night to avoid the humiliation of showing up alone.

  
Seongwoo’s eyes drift over to Minhyun and Jaehwan. Jaehwan’s caressing Minhyun’s arm lovingly as the taller man giggles like a school girl, clearly smitten with his husband. 

It hits him again - the icky sensation of envy poisoning his heart. He frowns.

Maybe one day he’ll find something like that. Maybe.

* * *

_ “Knock. Knock. Knock.” _

Seongwoo’s face scrunches with displeasure. It’s his lazy sunday - the one day he truly has to himself, a day with no work, errands, or social obligations. He started watching some saucy Chinese drama with undead spirits and demon hunters or something and was quite enjoying pretending to pay attention while he dozed off. Frowning, Ong hoists himself off of his couch and plods over to the door. The only person who really comes to his door is Minhyun, but noawadays the Hwangddams people like to call (usually, it’s Sungwoon on their behalf anymore).

Ong opens the door, expecting the familiar, lithe form of the beauteous Minhyun. His eyes widen with surprise when, instead, he sees the short and stout Ms. Kim. The woman who had extended a fairly ominous welcome to him when he moved on.

“Uh- Ms. Kim,” Seongwoo tries to hide his disappointment, flashing a phony smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good afternoon, Seongwoo,” The older woman says with a grin. “How have you been adjusting?”

“Oh, um, surprisingly well,” Seongwoo scratches his nape sheepishly.

The Hwangddams family are his only close neighbors, and he’s managed to foster a very pleasant relationship with them. In all honesty, they’re one of the few constants in his crazy life anymore. Work throws him from one project to another on the whim of the bosses, and his social life is inconsistent, ranging from weeks of almost zero contact to weekends jam packed with every damn get-together and party imaginable. It’s exhausting. The Hwangddams family, though? They’re nice. Ong can always rely on them to be ridiculous and eccentric - something that, for some reason, comforts him. And, for some reason,  _ they  _ seem to like  _ him _ . They always shower with him kind words, and the children - in their own way - show their adoration, too.

Ms. Kim sighs with relief, “Oh, good to hear, hun. They haven’t been giving you trouble, have they?” She nods unsubtly to the lot next to his.

Ong shakes his head, “No, not at all.”

“Good. Well, I wish everyone could say the same,” She shakes her head dejectedly and hands him a flier of sorts.

  
Seongwoo takes it politely and scans it; he frowns as he asks for an explanation, “This is a…?

“It’s for our upcoming home owner’s association meeting,” Ms. Kim elaborates without prompting. “An open forum discussing the influence of immoral families in small communities and how they can be kindly asked to leave.”

Seongwoo raises his brows at the woman incredulously. It’s pretty transparent what this is really about. The message is loud and clear, though it’s buried under lots of faux-diplomatic jargon. The Hwangddams are obviously targeted. There’s a column that reads “Are YOU a bad neighbor?” under which there’s a list of “bad” qualities such as “housing dangerous creatures such as snakes” and “keeping strange hours”.

“This sounds a lot like, well, my next-door neighbors,” Ong says bluntly.

Ms. Kim lets out a laugh and gives him a dismissive wave, “Well, I suppose it does apply to them quite a bit doesn’t it?”

“Does anyone else plant ‘flesh-eating plants’ on their property?” Seongwoo asks, reading off of the bad neighbor list. There are definitely a few points that are oddly specific.

The older woman lets out another titter, “I guess not.” Her voice lowers, “You know, dogs have crossed that property line and never returned.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Seongwoo cringes. How the hell is he supposed to respond to that? It’s a damn pity for the puppies and their owners, but what is a person doing letting their dog wander so far? As far as Ong can tell, he and the Hwangddams are relatively isolated from the majority of the development. Ong coughs, “Have they actually done anything?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Like- The Hwangddams family - have they done anything bad?”

Ms. Kim’s pleasant demeanor falters a bit. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes narrow slightly.

“Well, nothing is on official record, but!” She holds up a finger, “We are not going to wait until they do! You know I’m part of the neighborhood watch, and- and safety is a priority of ours. Part of being safe is being proactive, not just reactive, Seongwoo.”

“I see,” Ong answers dryly. He really wants to get back to his drama now.

“Well, then, I would love to see you at the meeting!” Her chipper facade returns.

“Thank you, Ms. Kim,” Seongwoo nods, bidding her a polite farewell. 

“Goodbye, Seongwoo,” She waves giddily before scampering off to her car to hit the next residence. Ong has a feeling she won’t hit the house next door. He eyes the flier and grimaces before balling it up and tossing it toward his trash can.

Unsurprisingly, he misses.


	6. Darling

Shrill screams echo across the living room as a blood bath splatters on screen. It’s the final scene of Scream, and everyone’s sleeping soundly to the siren’s song of blood curdling mayhem. Well, almost everyone. Seongwoo is only half asleep. He knows better than to fall asleep in the Hwangddams house. That’s just asking for some sort of demonic possession or evisceration. Jinyoung and Guanlin curl up on either side of him as Daehwi lays draped across a chaise clutching a plague rat plushie.

Ong yawns, checking his watch. It’s past midnight. While that constitutes an early night for the Hwangddams couple, for Ong it’s creeping toward his bedtime. Seongwoo frowns, wondering where they could possibly be. Friday nights are looser - hence the children haven’t been put to bed bed, but even so they’re usually courteous enough not to keep him too long.

“How’s your night been?” A shadow lurking behind the couch asks.

“It’s been f- aah!” Seongwoo jumps when he realizes that nobody had been behind him before. His head whips around, heart hammering against his sternum in panic at the sudden noise. He clutches his chest, huffing as the blinking bluish light of the TV illuminates Jaehwan’s pallid visage. “J-Jaehwan. You scared me.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaehwan lilts with a grin. He leans heavily on the back of the couch. “The children were awful as always, I presume?”

“Miserable company,” Ong replies with a grin. He’s gotten fairly used to the Hwangddams’ topsy turvy way of communicating. It’s unique, but not really bad or offensive. Their tastes simply differ from that of the general public. An overcast day with lightning and whirlwinds is what they’d consider lovely weather. They’d rather take the kids for a swim in a swamp than a public pool.  _ Plus _ , they’ve never been convicted of any real crimes - just accused! Strange but not objectively terrible.

“Thank you as always,” Jaehwan says. “You’re relieved of your duties. Sungwoon’s parking the hearse, but once he’s in he can strap the children to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Ong says. “It’s no trouble at a-ahh-” His diaphragm betrays him, spasming into a prolonged yawn. He coughs sheepishly afterwards.

“Positive. I wouldn’t want to keep you much longer. The moon’s almost reached it’s peak in the sky, I’m sure you’ve some wicked atrocities to get to with your friends.”

Ong laughs loud at that, “F-Ha! I think some of the dramas I’m watching on Netflix are atrocious. Does that count?” He smiles bitterly.

Jaehwan tilts his head curiously. Suddenly, Ong realizes the implication of what he just said. He momentarily agonizes over how it makes him look. Is Jaehwan going to think he’s some friendless reject? Or what if he thinks Ong is just some snob who doesn’t want to befriend anybody at all? What if he thinks Seongwoo is sad? Would he even be that far off?

Seongwoo coughs, awkwardly fumbling to recover his words, “I- I mean- Uh- like- I just hang out by myself most of the time. Y’know?” He mentally smacks himself. Somehow, he made himself sound pathetic.

“Of course we understand. We love time in solitary,” The man in the pinstripe suit answers earnestly.

“Well, it’s not always voluntary,” Ong chuckles wryly. “I, um, I don’t relate to, like, my coworers well. And my friends from college have all moved far.” Why am I saying this, he wonders. His ears tint pink with embarrassment.

“I understand,” Jaehwan replies kindly, resting his chin on his hand. “Sometimes self-imposed isolation isn’t exactly self-imposed.”

“Y-Yeah, right,” The other nods, blush still tickling his cheeks. The other’s close, and in the whiteish light of the television, he appears almost ghastly. Yet he wears it well. He’s fair, and it contrasts prettily with his raven hair and smoked eyes. 

Ong always thought Minhyun and Jaehwan a fairly funny pair. Minhyun is dazzling in the way polished onyx is. He’s beautiful, mysterious, long and lean. One would assume such a man would pair with another like him - tall, dark and undeniably sexy. Jaehwan looks more like a doughy-cheeked elf. He’s cute and short and quirky, not particularly built or sophisticated. Yet, in this lighting, hearing him speak with such genuity, Seongwoo starts to get it. He can see why someone like Minhyun would go for a man like Jaehwan. Ong feels guilty for ever even doubting it, really. Jaehwan has his own distinct charms, and he obviously adores his family and his husband.

“You know,” Jaehwan says, “This might surprise you, but we’ve never exactly been the most… Popular family in the neighborhood.”

“Really?” Seongwoo exaggeratedly raises his brows in an attempt to appear shocked. In truth, he’s about as shocked as a dead battery.

“Yeah. The family has owned this estate for nearly two centuries. We’ve always extended the utmost courtesy to the neighbors as times have evolved, but we could never really connect with them. Well, save for you,” He grins at Ong.

Ong feels his heart swell a bit, and he blushes, “Oh, y’know I’m just...” He shrugs. He’s just what? He doesn’t even know. 

“Reasonable?” Jaehwan laughs, standing up from his half-perch on the back of the couch. “So, you don’t relate with your coworkers well?”

“Not really,” Ong shrugs. “They’re into different stuff, I guess. We do outings occasionally. They’re nice… A lot of them have kids and stuff, though. The ones that don’t are kind of-” Ong winces thinking about the way they talk about chasing hookups and how wasted they got the past weekend, “-just not my people.”

“Have you ever considered a career change?” Jaehwan asks.

“Eh?” Ong’s face (and mind) goes blank. What did he just say? Figures, Jaehwan goes from zer to a-hundred in six seconds flat. They go from some sort of deep talk into talking about career prospects.

“We would love to have you as a live in ophair. Sungwoon does well with the children, but as they grow older and start doing activities it’s become a bit more taxing as he’s the driver for the entire family. Plus I’m sure he would love to go back to devoting time to his hobbies. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him perform necromancy rites and…” Jaehwan frowns, “I can’t help feeling responsible.”

“Wh-Wh- You- You want me to- To-” The cogs in Seongwoo’s brain are a bit gummed up. There’s something stuck, making it hard for them to turn at quite the rate they ought to, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to spout out a response. “To- To move-in- live-in ophair? That’s… Quite the transition.”

“The children do adore you. You even lift Guanlin’s mood. Why- I saw him poking a dead bird with a stick the other day,” Jaehwan glows. “Do you know how long it’s been since our little boy played with the dead?”

“A… While?” Ong guesses.

Jaehwan nods grimly, “Your presence has improved their lives - and ours, of course.” He finishes with a warm smile.

“Jaehwan, I am- am flattered, but I don’t think that’s the right move for me. I wouldn’t want to trouble you. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine in my job. Even if I’m not great friends with the people I work with.” Ong bites down on his lip, hoping the other doesn’t take the rejection too hard and stab him through the heart with a hidden saber.

  
“Very well,” Jaehwan replies, shrugging nonchalantly. He seems totally unaffected. Ong’s almost offended. He didn’t even put up a fight! “Note the offer’s on the table for the time being, should you want a change.”

“Of- Of course,” Ong nods. For some reason that makes him blush more. The Hwangddams are so nice?  _ Why  _ are they so nice? “Yeah. I’ll find my own way, don’t worry.”

“Darling,” A voice drifts in through the arched entrance to the frontmost living room. Ong’s eyes follow the melodic sound and blow wide open. In the milky white light of the TV, at first all he can see is leg. 

Leg, leg, leg - almost the entirety of one of Minhyun’s legs. It’s long, fair and fit, protruding through a slit in the sinfully slinky, silky robe dangling off of his shoulders. The deep rouge robe hugs the lithe man’s shoulders, dipping into a deep V at the knotted waist sash then billowing out, running all the way to the floor. Heat swelters inside Seongwoo’s stomach, igniting fizzling fireworks as his mind reels into a tizzy. 

Minhyun tells his husband, “The bath’s drawn. Come.” Jaehwan immediately perks up (as he should because, who wouldn’t when offered all of  _ that  _ wrapped in a silk bow). Minhyun’s dark gaze shifts to Seongwoo, “Will Ong be joining us?”

Seongwoo chokes. He’s joking, right? He asks himself. His panicked eyes dart between Minhyun and Jaehwan. The couple merely raise their brows inquisitively as if asking: “Well, are you?” The implication makes Ong’s brain function go from slow to stopped, and it takes a minute of dumb staring to compose himself.

Ong coughs loudly, “U-Uhm, I- I dunno-”

“Are you sure?” Jaehwan asks. “The clawfoot’s plenty big.”

“That’sokay,” Ong blurts out. There’s a little gremlin in the back of his mind urging him: do it. Do it. But he doesn’t listen to it. Obviously, they’re kidding. “You guys are- are funny!” Seongwoo laughs, a wheezy, humorless sound.

“Funny?” Minhyun tilts his head in confusion. “I don’t understand, did someone tell a joke?”

“I didn’t,” Jaehwan shakes his head. “At least- I don’t think I did. Did I have another memory blackout…?”

Seongwoo delicately disentangles himself from the two children, readying to make his departure, “W-Well, you two, you wouldn’t really- with a- a third person, I mean-”

“Ong we adore you,” Minhyun says frankly. The words suck all of the air out of Seongwoo’s lungs.

“We love you, man,” Jaehwan adds with a laugh.

“Don’t you… Love each other?” Ong asks.

“Of course.” “With all my heart.” The two answer simultaneously.

“Well, you know what they say,” Seongwoo sputters awkwardly, shuffling toward the exit (the exit that happens to be obstructed by a very handsome Minhyun wearing nothing but a sheath of silk). “Three’s a crowd.”

“Who said that?” Minhyun laughs.

“They sound as if they’ve a weak constitution,” Jaehwan chuckles.

“Right, well, you know, I don’t want to- I mean- You two-”

“What’s all this about two?” Minhyun laughs - a beautiful, regal gesture that brightens his entire fair face. “Mon cher, we’re poly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // sorry this chap is so short. i decided how the rest of this story is gonna go. it'll be 2 more hcapters. p short for me ! XD


	7. Avian Predators

Whistling wind filters in through the towering windows in the Hwangddams’s foremost dining room. Per usual, a dreary storm bubbles and brews in the sky above, dark clouds stirring menacingly. Inside, sconces and cobweb covered chandeliers cast a warm light across the dining area turned study area. Seongwoo’s gotten so used to babysitting, he considers the Hwangddams mansion his second home.

This is Ong’s first full weekend stay at the family manor. One of Jaehwan’s second or third or fourth cousins (some distant relation) invited the couple to their wedding. Sungwoon also happens to be a licensed pilot, begging the question: what can’t he do? While the children were welcome, Minhyun said that they’d likely be bored out of their skulls, especially since the one marrying into the family is “of the mainstream, conventional type” - Minhyun’s words. 

Seongwoo expected his weekend to be full of terror, to have his sleep disturbed by things going bump in the night and wake up to countless homicide attempts. He did wake up to one homicide attempt - Daehwi had been dangling a brown recluse over Ong’s open mouth in his sleep - and, yes, there were noises - there are always noises. However, the entire stay had been more typical than Seongwoo would have ever believed previously.

Ong decided that even though it’s the weekend, kids ought to have some sort of structure. The morning had been quiet time, ramping up into playtime for the afternoon, lunch, and then an hour of studying. Even though he hated school growing up, the Hwangddams children are actually pretty receptive to it. 

Unsurprisingly, Daehwi is an avid scholar even at his young age. The boy drinks up books like one would an oasis spring after being parched in the desert. He’s currently entrenched in a copy of “Helter Kelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders”. He’ll probably be pawing through the family library for another book soon. Though, hopefully his teacher will allow whatever his next choice is to count toward his monthly reading goals. Apparently the woman disallowed Daehwi from his last completed novel - something about an off the rails book fan brutalizing her favorite author.

Jinyoung is much less literarily inclined than his brother. Preferring to do things with his hands, he pulls a curved needle through the hide of a squirrel he found the day before in the woods. He gasped, shocked and excited to desciver “such a fresh specimen” and begged Ong to let him take it. Seongwoo couldn’t think of a reason to say no. He couldn’t think of a reason to say yes, either, but given that taxidermy is a legitimate medium of art, the merits of allowing it outweighed his own personal reservations.

Guanlin in the meanwhile writes down notes for a biography on some basketball player for his social studies class. Ironically, it’s he that’s the oddball among them. The youngest has taken to Ong, but he’s distant from his siblings. He tends to watch their morbid merriment from afar. Minhyun occasionally laments his lack of interest in family activities like “demolitions sunday” and making poison apples (“poison” surely being a euphamism for something, Ong imagines).

“How’s it going?” Seongwoo asks, peeking over Guanlin’s shoulder. The kid’s glance alternates between the screen of his tablet and his notebook. A lanky guy on screen in a blue jersy sinks shot after shot. It looks more like a highlight reel to Ong than actual biogrpahical information, but, hell, who is he to criticize?

“It’s cool,” Guanlin shrugs. He’s pretty nonchalant for a kid. Ong swears he remembers being a lot more spastic at that age. “Do you know him?”

“Hm?” Ong raises his brows and follows the other’s gaze to the screen. “I think I’ve seen him, yeah. He’s really famous, right?”

The kid nods enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face, “He’s literally the best. Nobody shoots better than him. Nobody! The season starts soon- ugh, I can’t wait!”

“Yeah, but is he as good as you?” Ong playfully nudges the kid with his elbow.

Guanlin giggles sheepishly, “I dunno about that. Oh, but, um, my season is starting soon, too. Like officially and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Guanlin nods. “You should totally come- I mean, if you want to.”

“That’d be awesome,” Seongwoo says with a warm grin. The Hwangddams are quickly turning into a surrogate family for him. He adores his parents and sister, but everyone is displaced. He lives in one palce, his parents another and his sister in another country. With his friends from university also displaced and his lack of connection with work people, companionship isn’t something Ong really feels with a lot of people. The Hwangddams family is strange, yes, but unbelievably kind. Sometimes, Seongwoo feels like Guanlin is practically his own kid. So seeing him play a basketball game seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

“Really?” Guanlin beams, “That’d be so awesome! Ugh-” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “It’s nice to talk to someone normal for once.” His grin falters and his gaze falls.

Ong’s own smile falters, “Wh- Hey, your family loves the heck out of you, you know that? They’d do anything for you.”

Guanlin’s eyes dart over to his siblings and he shrugs, “I mean, I guess. Maybe…”

“Wh- Not ‘maybe’, they do, period.”

Guanlin watches his siblings carefully as he speaks in a hushed tone, “Yeah, but- but I’m not like them.”

“That doesn’t mean they don’t love you,” Ong frowns. Guanlin, for as cool of a customer as he seems, is still a kid at the end of the day. Of course he’ll misunderstand things. “They’re just trying to figure out who you are right now, that’s all. Everyone grows up and gets into different stuff, and sometimes parents don’t get it. That happens to almost everyone.”

“Yeah, well my parents definitely don’t get basketball,” Guanlin pouts, pursing his lips and gazing absentmindedly at his tablet screen. “Last season they went to one of my games and then asked me who won at the end. They said that it didn’t make sense that ‘both teams made it out alive’. Dad was all like ‘how can you say you won when there wasn’t a single injury inflicted to the enemy team?’...”

Seongwoo chuckles. He can completely imagine Jaehwan saying such a thing after watching children throw a ball around for an hour.

“I’m sure they’ll learn,” Ong replies sweetly.

“I don’t think they want to,” Guanlin responds, tone deflated. “They never have to ask questions about Daehwi’s plays for theater club or what Jinyoung’s art pieces mean… I go to school and things are fine, but when I come home sometimes I just feel like… I feel different. I dunno. Sometimes I wonder if they’re sad that I do basketball and not something else.”

“Some things come more naturally than others to people. Like- I may get basketball’s basics, but, like, if I cannot play it for the life of me. If I step on the court a ball will hit my face. Period. If you continue to express your passion, I’m sure they’ll come around.”

“I guess, but-” Guanlin’s pupils shift toward his siblings again. Both still appear completely preoccupied. He whispers, “-it’s kind of embarrassing, too. They always stick out…” He returns his voice to normal. “It’s probably more your speed.”

“W-Well, I’d be happy to go to one of your games!” Seongwoo replies with a smile. He’s not sure how to respond to the kid’s venting. Even though he’s young and maybe a little naive, his feelings are still valid. Seongwoo doesn’t want to straightup lecture him or anything like that. He wonders if he should tell Minhyun and Jaehwan about this. 

Guanlin  _ is _ their child, after all. If he feels unloved, Ong should tell his parents… Right? Or would it be better to keep things in confidence? Guanlin definitely spoke candidly. He’s not often very open or talkative. Part of Seongwoo wants to keep things between them, to be a safe place for the kid. A lot of times young people don’t feel they can talk freely with the adults in their life. Seongwoo never thought much about having children of his own. It never particularly registered on his radar. However, upon the occasion that the thought crossed his mind, he always wanted to be the type of parent that a kid would be comfortable talking to.

“Hey,” Seongwoo tells the rather crestfallen looking child. “Give me your schedule. I’ll pick a game and see you play. Maybe give your parents a few pointers, too.”

“Okay!” Guanlin immediately brightens up, nodding happily.

“You really like basketball, huh?”

“Yeah, just a little,” The kid replies sarcastically.

“Well, if there’s ever a game on during TV time, let me know,” Ong says. “I’m down to watch one.”

“I’m totally gonna hold you to that!” Guanlin beams. His face falls slightly, “Though it’ll be tough getting them to agree.”

Ong raises his brows at the other two, “Not big basketball fans?”

“Last time I put on a game they tried to kill me. Literally,” Guanlin sighs as if he’d just described his siblings playing a petty prank.

“O-Oh. Well, if the basketball is too grating for your family, maybe I can talk to your parents,” Ong posits. “You could come over to my place some time to watch a game. I mean, you’re all welcome, really. But, I mean, y’know-”

“Really?!” Guanlin bounces happily, and his giddy clap draws the attention of his siblings. Daehwi shoots him a blank expression that somehow communicates annoyance, and Jinyoung simple appears confused.

“Yeah,” Seongwoo nods. “A-Any time.” He grins at the other two, “We’ve got ten more minutes of quiet time before screens are allowed again. Okay?”

“Right.” “Yes, sir.” The other two respond.

  
  


* * *

“-nd that was a crazy day at work!” The guy sitting across from Seongwoo laughs. His name is Joon, and he’s a brilliant finance guy. Ong matched with him on a dating app after Woojin said Ong couldn’t borrow Jihoon for the party. Joon is a young up and coming investment banker or something of the sort. To be honest, Seongwoo always found the ticking reels of financial markets dizzying. He never understood them and figured he would never amass enough wealth to warrant trying. Joon, in contrast, is content to muse about it.

A lot.

Seongwoo wonders if he’s on a date or at a ted talk. The guy has barely touched his food. His mouth is too busy monologuing about stock prices and “the global market”. To make matters worse, Joon has also snapped at their waitress. Twice. There are few things that irritate Ong more than people being rude to service workers. Having spent a long spell as a barista in college, he knows just how shitty being on that end of customer service can be. He’s pretty sure if it happens again he might snap.

“So what about you?” Joon asks with a smile. As if he hasn’t been lecturing for the past forty-five minutes.

Ong smiles courteously, “Well, like I said I work on a team in a tech company. We do contract work so sometimes our clients pull a fast one on us.”

“Oh, tech. Oof, this past quarter has been crazy for tech…” And there he goes. Off on another prolonged tangent.

Seongwoo tries his best to be polite. He knows damn well that Joon is  _ not _ going to be his plus one. While the thought of his reaction to the Hwangddams family is entertaining, it doesn’t override Ong’s general repulsion toward the pompous, snapping man. Ong fantasizes about an emergency call. Something terrible and devastating that would guarantee he has to run out immediately. He didn’t anticipate the date being this bad, though. He’s done it in the past - told friends he’s going on an iffy date and asked for an out. But who can he ask?

Ong stealthily fishes his phone out from his pocket. He holds it in his lap, leaning back and peeking down subtly. Joon is none the wiser. He moves his arms animatedly as he explains something or the other about “the tech sector” and “big moves from the giants” or whatever. Seongwoo opens his text messages and taps the first contact that catches his eye.

His brows raise at the sight of the recent message.

_ Minhyun Hwangddams _ : While I struggle to see what so enraptures children with these dvices, I do have to praise the merits of convenience with these smartphones. Thank you again for all your help setting it up. I look forward to further correspondence. 🥀⚰Worst, Minhyun

_ Minhyun Hwangddams: _ PS: These little pictures are quite endearing! 🎃🥀⚰🖤🗡🕸🔮💀🔨👾🧨️🧷️🐜🕷🦇🦎🐍🍄☄🌋 🥀⚰Worst, Minhyun

Ong wonders:

Would Minhyun bail him out?

Seongwoo tries. All it takes is a call, really. He can make up whatever the other says and run out. Someone’s dying. Grandma fell in a well. Something like that ought to suffice. Joon, for all his repugnance, is handsome enough and surely won’t be too wounded if he, say, never hears back from Ong again.

Seongwoo taps out a succinct text:

(Ong): hey minhyun i need a very quick favor. Can you call me? Boring date need a bailout

He waits. Surprisingly, Minhyun’s response is swift.

_ Minhyun Hwangddams:  _ A boring date? Bailout? Sounds dreary. Say no more, I’ll take care of this in haste. Human lives are too short to wallow in ambivalence. 🥀⚰Worst, Minhyun

Seongwoo’s lips quirk up into a smile. Any second now, he thinks, the call will come. He concocts an excuse that gets the point across without being shameless or over the top. “Family emergency” - he thinks. It’s vague and to the point without an obligation to elaboration.

“-think that they’re gonna take over the grocery delivery market, though,” Joon rambles, none the wiser. “It is seriously getting cutthroat like- Do you hear that?”

Ong blinks confusedly, cocking his head to the side. He glances at his phone, but it’s not ringing.

“Hear what?” He asks.

“It’s… It’s like a shrill ringing,” Joon says, face scrunching into perturbation. “Almost like a screeching, like a-”

“Aaaaah!” A high-pitched scream pierces the restaurant’s relaxed ambiance. “Aaaaaaah!” “Oh my god-!” “What’s going on-” “Oh god!”

Screams and shrieks echo across the restaurant, and people scatter. Seongwoo gasps, lost and confused. People run. Plates clatter onto the ground and food is spilled.

“Oh, shit-!” Joon gapes. “What the fuck?!”

There’s a distinct noise that differs greatly from all the rest. Seongwoo eyes an amalgamous black mass fluttering across the ceiling, and he realizes that sound is squawking.

Birds.

Big, black crows to be exact.

Out of nowhere, they flooded the restaurant. More and more shoot in through the slightly ajar door. They flap and peck angrily with no respect for the humans within. Seongwoo’s eyes blow wide open. He can’t move. Shock keeps him firmly rooted in place.

He ponders: this couldn’t possibly be Minhyun’s doing.

  
Could it?

“Oh- Oh god!” Joon yelps from across Seongwoo. Ong’s head whips in the direction of his dull date, and he winces at the sight of two crows fluttering and flapping at him menacingly. One of them jabs at his head and ear with its sharp beak. The birds appear indignant, but not completely ravenous or insatiable. 

Ong slinks away slowly, allowing the massive distraction to provide cover. 

“Wh- Ah! Sorry!” Seongwoo mutters reflexively after almost stepping on a bird that’d taken a liking to someone’s fallen steak. He weaves carefully between flailing, panicked bodies as staff wield brooms like sabers to shoo the black-winged birds out.

In Ong’s wake is a path of angry, avian destruction. After a cautious crawl toward the door, he slips out, nearly eating feathers in doing so. People burst out in a flurry of terrified hollers and shouts. Bystanders on the sidewalk grab their phones and film the calamity all the while, doing absolutely nothing to help. Seongwoo coughs awkwardly, filing past a few rubberneckers and casually strolling toward his car. 

When he feels like he’s finally in the clear, he heaves a sigh of relief. The cool autumn air feels soothing on his heated skin, and relief sinks into his bones. He’s rid of Joon. Sure, many, many people have been greatly inconvenienced in the process, but Ong tries not to dwell on that. Nobody actually got hurt. Probably. A buzzing in Seongwoo’s pocket makes him jump, and for a second he feels the ghost of feathertips flitting against his skin. He almost drops his phone as he pulls it out of his pocket.

_ “Minhyun Hwangddams is calling…”  _ it says.

Ong picks it up.

“Ong,” Minhyun’s genial voice sounds clear and soothing as always. “Was the matter taken care of?”

“Uh, y-yes,” Seongwoo says. “Very much so. Thanks for calling in the, um, birds. They won’t hurt people, will they?”

“Not anymore,” Minhyun replies wistfully. “Unfortunately some zealous zookeeper deprogrammed their predatory training. A pity, really. We do still adore our dear crows, though. Aren’t they adorable?”

“Very,” Ong chuckles. He heaves a sigh. His temples ache ever so slightly - probably from stress. Work has been crazy after his team’s client threw a budget restriction on them last second. Not to mention the whole plus one thing, and the general fending off loneliness and late twenties existential crises. “Not sure I’ll be bringing anyone to the Hwangddams Halloween Soiree.” He tries to joke. In truth, it wounds him a little bit. Sometimes, he feels utterly hopeless. He wonders if he’s the problem, if they’re the problem, or if he’s just not destined for love at all.

“You needn’t worry,” Minhyun replies. For how eccentric he is, he’s incredibly kind and warm. “Trust me, you will not want for companionship at our soiree. The Hwangddams extended family is massive. And if you don’t make a new friend among them - which I highly doubt - you will  _ always _ have us.”

Another ache strikes Seongwoo square in the chest. It’s a strange, hollow sensation. A combination of want and envy. He can’t help but feel like an add-on like the others are merely offering their companionship for consolation.

_ “We’re poly.”  _

The words echo in Seongwoo’s head. He’d heard the term, yes, but never truly understood the idea of it. He supposes that getting to know the Hwangddams couple, he can sort of understand its meaning. After all, both are so incredibly lovely, charming, captivating and enrapturing in entirely different ways. It’s like how both a rose and a string of twinkle lights are pretty. They both possess unique beauty yet are completely incomparable.

The Hwangddams couple is exactly like that.

Minhyun is the rose, wrapped in silk petals, long and alluring with piercing thorns that don’t hesitate to hurt those too brazen, too ignorant of a rose’s true nature. Beautiful and deadly - that’s Hwang Minhyun. Then there’s Jaehwan - the string lights. Vibrant, radiant energy that can scarcely be contained, be filtered. Undeniable and bright to the point that it can be near blinding - even distorting - if one him at them too much.

Both are loveable and choosing would be... Impossible.

But where would Ong enter such an equation? What is he? Those two make a gorgeous pair. Meanwhile, he feels like just… A dude with a funny last name.

“Thanks,” Ong chokes out in response. He forgot he’s still on the phone. “I’ve gotta drive home now, but, um, thanks again for the bailout.”

“Any time,” Minhyun replies. “Ong, you know we love you. We would kill for you.”

Somehow, Seongwoo doesn’t doubt that he’s telling the truth.

“I know,” Seongwoo says. “Jeez, you’re gonna make me blush.”

Minhyun chuckles - a charming, airy sound that makes Ong’s insides bubble like champagne, “Don’t you dare make me picture you all flustered and adorable right now. I have things to do.”

If he wasn’t flustered before, he sure as hell is now. Heat swims to Ong’s face and he shakes away mental images of raucous threesomes.

“Okay, I’m going now. Good night, Minhyun.”

“Good night, Ong,” Minhyun says before hanging up with a click.

Seongwoo feels lighter for some reason. He hops into the driver’s seat of his care and laughs to himself.

  
Shaking his head, he remembers something else Minhyun said to him.

“Nothing can beat a good old-fashioned bird of prey,” He mutters to himself, starting the car.


	8. Chapter 8

Seongwoo adjusts his outfit for the twentieth time. He does another turn, eyeing the way the black suit fits him. It’s impeccable. Simple and surprisingly cheap, but the old lady at the dry cleaner’s also does alterations cheap. Ong feels immensely grateful for the grandmotherly woman. Her handiwork is flawless. She took in the cheap black suit at the waist and brought in the pants so they hug his figure just so. He’s got a black vest on over a white shirt and a jacket over that. To top it all off, a cape and a mask. Well, half of one.

The phantom of the opera is classic, he thinks. Handsome, recognizable and debonair with just that underlying horror due to the backstory. Perfect! In truth, Ong has been peeking out the window all evening. Cars have been filing in and out of the long Hwangddams drive already, some getting parked in an expensive lot of land to the back. The house is huge, and he has no doubt they could host hundreds of people if they so wished. 

Seongwoo inspects himself again, just to be certain every detail is just right. Along with the outfit, he lined his eyes and smoked them out slightly. His hair is slicked back like the Phantom’s is, too. He’s pretty sure he could study every detail of his outfit. He could spend all night in front of the mirror. But he knows damn well the real reason he’s doing it isn’t out of appreciation for the aesthetics.

He’s nervous.

Given the massive amount of people attending, Seongwoo doesn’t even know if he’ll see much of Minhyun or Jaehwan. Aside from them, the children are the only ones he knows. That means that the majority of his night is probably to be spent socializing with strangers. Even though Ong seems like he’s great with new people, it’s all just a facade. In truth, he’s always a little anxious.

“Okay, Ong,” The man tells himself. “Enough putting it off. Let’s- Let’s go.” He nods to his reflection determinedly before marching off.

Seongwoo’s cape billows behind him as he crosses the lawn onto the Hwangddams property. His stomach flips nervously as he wonders what’s in store. He can’t stop going through scenarios in his head. What if he’s too awkward to speak? What if he accidentally offends someone? What if he gets too drunk and dances on a table? What if someone hot shows up? What if he takes someone home? What if he ends up home, lonely and sad?

The what-if’s pile up until he’s near the grandiose entrance of the mansion. The doors are wide open, and people happily chatter as they pass the threshold. Surprisingly, Sungwoon is at the door. Ong thought he’d be enjoying the party, but apparently there truly is no rest for the wicked.

Ong politely shuffles into the queue to go through the doors. Though he knows it’s not polite to stare, he can’t help it. Observing the people entering the Hwangddams house, Seongwoo knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Hell, after babysitting their kids, nothing should shock him, really. But he can’t help him. It’s like living in two worlds. He goes to work in the normal world where people wear polo shirts and use social media like Snapchat. Then he babysits the Hwangddams and enters a gloomy, old mansion where the only “snap” the adults know is Snaps, the alligator that lives on the property. 

The people attending the Hwangddams Halloween Soiree are certainly those who would fall in the latter category. People of all shapes and sizes from various walks of life and seemingly various parts of the planet chatter happily. They don attire that ranges from stunning to grotesque. One man wears a skinsuit that depicts human musculiture with gorey accuracy. A woman in a period-accurate rococo dress glides across the foyer, massive skirt swaying with her movement. Some are covered head to toe in tattoos, others are so direly pale they resemble corpses more than humans. There are flamboyant hats with masses of lace and ribbons and towering high heels that force the people wearing them to walk en pointe. Some don costumes but even the costumes are fanciful, ornate designs with beautiful, couture crafting. A few wear near nothing at all, long hair the only thing to cover their nethers.

“Welcome back, Ong,” Sungwoon greets Ong coolly.

“Wh-! Oh, god-” Ong jumps, having been so enraptured with everything else he forgot about Sungwoon’s presence. The stocky man looks the same as ever - well tailored suit and neatly styled hair. He’s all business, apparently.

“Did I scare you?” Sungwoon’s brows raise inquisitively.

“Uh- Yeah, lil’ bit.”

“Good,” The solemn man responds. “Feel free to roam as you see fit. The two masters of the house ought to be somewhere in the midst of festivities. Drinks are in the parlor and food spread is across the dining room.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” Ong answers sheepishly. He gives the other a polite nod. Whimsical music echoes throughout the place. It sounds like some sort of a string ensemble, though a few of the noises are so foreign, Ong can’t place them. He lumbers in, eyes still everywhere but in front of him. People dance and chatter and sip wine. Ong almost gets whiplash. His feet guide him toward the kitchen. Muscle memory, probably. He hadn’t eaten much, and he knows the Hwangddams family keeps a stash of “Ong food” - bland, normal stuff that fits his delicate constitution. He appreciates the consideration a ton, especially considering he never even requested it, just mentioned his bad indigestion offhandedly. 

Seongwoo squeezes past people in the narrow corridor. The house feels more alive than ever. It’s as if the presence of people imbues the mansion itself with energy. The lights appear to shine brighter, the eyes on painted portraits look more animated and the taxidermy specimens more lively.

Seongwoo nearly reaches the kitchen when a little hand grips his wrist. He manages not to physically jump this time - an improvement he nonverbally pats himself on the shoulder for.

“Ong, Ong!” It’s Jinyoung who’s got ahold of his wrist. The little boy grins ear to ear, bouncing up and down. He’s got a simple black cloak on, and clutched in his other hand is a sickle.

“Are you the grim reaper?” Ong asks with a grin.

“I am!” Jinyoung nods excitedly.

“Have you come to reap my soul?”

“Yes! But first-” He starts guiding Ong in the opposite direction, “-you gotta meet my cousins.”

“Wh- Oh- Okay,” Seongwoo laughs.

He gets dragged along and meets Cousin It, Aunt Priscilla, Dresden, Burgess, Granna, Poe, Craft, Cthulu, Ebony, Ravn, Wynn and Gwynn, Solaire and a variety of other eccentrics with peculiar names. He amicably greets the bunch whose ages range from four to fourty-two. Ravn, a dashing young man with fair skin and a handsome face, looks pretty normal. But then there are intimidating ones like Cousin Tae whose glassy blue eyes bore unsettlingly into Ong’s soul. He tells himself that he just imagined that as he walks away, still haunted by the blond man’s gaze.

After over an hour of introductions and smalltalk with Hwangddams extended family and friends, Ong finally sees the men of the hour. Minhyun is the first to snatch Seongwoo’s eye. He snatches the man’s breath, too.

An intricately patterned corset cinches the man’s tiny waist in, accentuating his long, lithe figure. Beneath the structural piece a plunging black shirt with billowy sleeves drapes off his figure, flashing a generous amount of decolletage. His pants lace up the sides with a ribbon that matches the lacing of the corset, and a pair of heeled boots further elongate the man.

Minhyun’s gaze meets Ong’s from across the room, and his painted lips upturn into a smile. He begins sauntering over to the sitter, and soon Jaehwan appears next to him. His black suit is smartly tailored to even make his relatively stout figure appear long and broad in all the right places. However, a line of patterned embroidery runs up the pantlegs and continues into the jacket panels, making it appear almost as one piece. His eyes are smoked out with red shadow, giving him the appearance of some sort of seductive ghoul. Together the two make a devastating pair.

Two pillars of the Hwangddams family. A power couple who perfectly compliment one another. 

Ong feels it again as they approach. The ugly twinge of envy, the desire for something like that. Of course, to be in a power couple, one must be powerful, right? 

_ “We’re poly.” _

_ “We adore you.” _

Seongwoo shakes the memories out of his head and smiles, greeting the two as they approach, “Minhyun! Jaehwan! How are you guys? This party is killer.”

“Oh, Ong,” Minhyun grins fondly, “You always do give the best compliments.” He leans forward and pecks Seongwoo on the cheek. “Phantom of the Opera?”

“Yup,” Seongwoo answers.

“Brilliant outfit!” Jaehwan compliments, beaming. “I had a foray into vocal performance myself!”

“He has a beautiful tenor. Of course, he chose to abandon his siren songs for the family. We’re ever so grateful,” Minhyun says fondly.

“Please, eat, drink, be merry!” Jaehwan encourages Ong. He grabs a shot glass off of a nearby try and hands it to Seongwoo.

Ong, ever the obliging one, takes it and thanks the other. He then eyes the bright green liquid dubiously. It wreaks of anise.

“Absinthe,” Jaehwan elaborates.

“It’s one of our favorite spirits,” Minhyun says. “Aunt Ghidorah distills it herself. Allegedly.”

“Can’t prove it in a court of law,” Jaehwan adds chipperly.

“Oh, that’s good,” Ong replies with a shrug. He mistakenly takes a sip and nearly spits it out. Ever the trooper, he swallows it down instead, hoping the intense regret he feels isn’t written on his face.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” Jaehwan asks.

“It certainly… Is,” Ong coughs out. He glances around at the scarcely contained chaos erupting around them. “Hey, where’s Guanlin?”

“Hm?” Minhyun’s brows raise inquisitively.

“I saw the others, but I haven’t said hi to Lin yet.”

“Oh, I’m not sure. He must be off playing with his cousins.”

“Minhyun!” A person calls from the distance. Ong’s eyes follow the yell which belongs to a tall, slender person donning a beautiful black swan getup. 

“Oh, Ren!” Minhyun beams. “I’d love for you to eat Ong- I mean meet!” The gorgeous Ren flashes Seongwoo a courteous grin and slinks over. “This is Ren, one of my brothers,” Minhyun introduces the other - his brother, apparently - happily to Ong.

Figures, Seongwoo thinks. Good looks run in the family. Of course they do. Ren looks like he just stepped off an avante garde runway in the long black dress he’s wearing, adorned with real black feathers and beading that appears hand-sewn. It impeccably emphasizes the man’s long, slender figure and a slit shows a tempting flash of his smooth legs. 

“Oh, so you’re the Ong I’ve heard so much about,” Ren greets Seongwoo with a smile. The flush on his cheeks is probably from the alcohol, Ong thinks. 

“Nice to meet you. Ong Seongwoo,” Ong replies. He extends a hand for a handshake, but Ren leans forward and kisses him on the cheek.

“Well if you haven’t been scared off yet, you really are a keeper,” Ren laughs.

“A sitter, actually,” Ong jokes.

“Ugh- He’s  _ adorable _ . You  _ better  _ keep him,” Ren elbows his brother. “Oh- Thanks for finally turning him onto technology by the way. His annoying ass bird would not stop going after my babies. I had to sharpen their teeth as a countermeasure.”

“Your- Your babies? You have kids?” And sharpened their teeth?!

“He’s talking about his rats which are  _ prey  _ for falcons,” Minhyun says with a semi-authentic smile. “How many times have I told you to cage them?”

“They are my  _ children _ . I am not confining my children to cages.”

“Well maybe you ought to,” Minhyun says. “My children  _ love  _ cages.” Ong can’t help but be amused at the brotherly bickering. Even the Hwangddams family isn’t above petty squabbles. Something about witnessing it comforts him.

“See,” Ren chuckles before leaning over to whisper in Ong’s hear, “Minhyun thinks he’s better than us because he has kids.”

“What was that?” Minhyun prods.

Ren flashes his brother another grin, “I was just telling Ong how much you talk about him. Seriously, he talks about you so much-”

“Is that why you came over here?” Minhyun interjects with a strained laugh. Ong can almost detect a faint flush on the other’s cheeks. He shakes the thought away, deciding it’s probably an absinthe hallucination.

“Actually, I came over here to tell you something,” Ren says. “There’s a mob by the front gate.”

“What?” “A mob?!” Minhyun and Jaehwan gasp at the same time.

“Yeah. They’ve got, like, signs and are chanting and everything. At first I thought they were entertainment that you’d booked, but there were no molotov cocktails. Not even a single pitchfork among the lot. Not  _ one _ .”

“Ren you know I would never dream of having a mob come over without torches and pitchforks,” Minhyun says, lips pursed in thought. “Did they seem to… Want anything?”

“Yeah, I was out catching some fresh air with Aron and one of them shouted demanding they speak to you or Jaehwan,” Ren replies.

“Wh- What ever for?”

Ren shrugs, “I dunno. They seemed mad, though.”

Minhyun rolls his eyes, “I suppose I ought to handle this.”

Seongwoo, intrigued, follows the others toward the front gate. He’s not the only gawker, it seems. A small crowd has formed outside of the entrance. The stand by, watching and whispering as a small crowd of people march around the front gate. It’s impressive they can be heard from such a great distance. Ong commends them for their projection, really.

  
“Get out! Get out! Get out! Get out!” The crowd outside the gate rallies, wielding signs on posts and big banners. It’s not a large group, really. Maybe twenty to forty people. It’s enough to be a spectacle, though. Among the silhouettes in the distance, Seongwoo catches sight of one that looks sort of familiar.

“Is that Mrs. Kim?” Ong blurts out.

Minhyun’s jaw drops, “Ong do you know these people? Wait- Did you do this?”

“Wh- What?! No,” Ong shakes his head fervently. “I would never. I just- I think I might recognize one of those people. Don’t you? They, um, they look like our neighbors.”

“Come, then,” Minhyun says nodding toward the whirling pikes of the wrought iron gate. “If you know one of them perhaps you can negotiate. I’m aware of our neighbors but I always fail to get through to them for some reason.”

“Uh, sure,” Ong says. The two walk down the cobbles of the driveway. As they approach, Seongwoo’s maybe turns into a definitely. That is definitely Mrs. Kim, and she is definitely holding out a sign that says “NO HWANGDDAMS”. Seongwoo laments that the people of the HOA couldn’t even think of a more witty slogan or something.

“Can I help you?” Minhyun asks cooly, approaching the bars with his arms crossed.

The crowd’s commotion dies down slowly, and Mrs. Kim herself is the one to speak directly to the head of the house, “As a matter of fact, I think you can. Wh- Seongwoo?!”

“Hi Mrs. Kim,” Seongwoo waves politely. “How’re you doing?”

“Don’t tell me they’ve sucked you into their debaucherous lifestyle, too!” The older woman glares at Minhyun. “You people disgust me, you know that? That’s why we’re protesting tonight. I knew you’d be bringing in all of your nasty kin and I wanted to show you that we’re not going to allow this to go on.”

“Allow what to go on?” Minhyun asks, polite but completely devoid of mirth.

“Your- your sinful lifestyle! You’re a bad example for this community and a menace to everyone in the neighborhood! We’re going to be out here every night from now on until you get out!”

“Oh- I- I wouldn’t recommend that,” Ong blurts out.

“Young man, you stay in your lane. This is between me and them. Pray to our lord and savior Jesus Christ and perhaps you will be forgiven. Him, though…” Mrs. Kim narrows her eyes at the tall, willowy man beside Ong.

“Well, I suppose I can’t bar your freedom of speech and expression,” Minhyun responds.

“That’s right, you can’t!” Mrs. Kim brandishes her sign triumphantly. 

Minhyun turns over his shoulder and calls out into the distance, “Avaritia! Yes, Avaritia, come dear girl…” He coos to the apparent darkness.

“W-Well? You’re not going to say anything else?” Mrs. Kim asks indignantly.

Minhyun raises his brows and shrugs, “I don’t believe I’ve anything else to say to you all. You’re all free to do as you please and you have not technically crossed onto my property- oh there’s my sweet girl.”

Seongwoo turns to see the “sweet girl” Minhyun had been referring to and nearly jumps out of his skin. Luckily, he has the good sense not to do that. He’s fairly certain that sudden movements might set off a tiger’s predator instincts, after all. The crowd’s eyes go wide, and Mrs. Kim squeaks indignantly at the sudden appearance of the massive feline. The thing’s face is probably as big as Ong’s body. He doesn’t even want to think about what her paws could do.

“Whhh-Wh- Wh- Wh- Do- Do- Do you have a license for that animal?!” Mrs. Kim asks.

“Well, as you know, my land is a legacy allotment of which most of the acreage is designated to be a nature sanctuary. So, yes, I do,” Minhyun replies nonchalantly. “Isn’t that right Miss Avaritia.” He makes kissy noises and the massive cat makes a groaning noise that seems like it’s happy. Hopefully. “You see, my darling tiger here was a stray from the zoo a few cities over. Their conditions were, apparently, rather appalling. So, naturally she ate her handlers and broke out. Now she keeps the local large game population in check.” Minhyun smiles. He pats the beast on the head, and the tiger plods off.

“Listen, I see what this is,” Mrs. Kim snarls. “You think you can intimidate us just because you’ve got a tiger on your pro-proprooo-” She trails off, eyes and mouth wide open in utter terror. Her pupils flit away from Minhyun to the side of the gate. 

There Avaritia stands on her hind legs, paws reaching the top of the gate with ease. The tigress presses her face to the bars, sniffing curiously.

“Did I mention that she’s an excellent jumper?” Minhyun asks, smiling ear to ear. “That’s how she got out, you know. Cleared the trench of her enclosure without a hitch.”

A few of the protestors turn tail immediately. However, the sudden movement had - predictably - inspired the tigress’s playful side. The great beast lowers its paws from the fence and backs up, posturing to leap.

“Don’t you dare,” Mrs. Kim steps back, wide-eyed. “You- You could never- Call her off, this instant!”

“Avaritia is not a trained pet,” Minhyun tuts. “She simply lives on the property and, well, I suppose we did help rehabilitate her when we found her. She is by no means trained, though. She’s a born predator, and-” The slender man shrugs, “-predators will do as they do. Oh- Try not to run too fast. She’ll think you’re food.”

That incites panic. Against the advice of Minhyun, the crowd erupts into mass chaos, screaming and fleeing in every direction. Predictably, the tiger takes the leap, clearing the fence effortlessly. Ong’s eyes go wide, and in that moment, Minhyun loops an arm around Ong’s shoulder and turns him around.

“Back to the party,” He says. 

  
Seongwoo tries to ignore the horrified screams he hears behind him, “U-Uh, are they gonna be ok-”

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Minhyun waves dismissively.

“They will?”

“Probably,” The host shrugs. “Come now, the night is young.”

* * *

Seongwoo spins the petite woman with ease on the dance floor. He’d done as he’d been told and started enjoying the party. The Hwangddams people are strange, yes, but they’re also extremely genial and easy to get along with. Ong got on with a small woman named Chungha who, as it turns out, is an incredible dancer. As a former dance fanatic himself, Seongwoo had been thrilled to take to the dance floor.

“Cousin Minhyun was right to bring you on,” Chungha says as the two step in time to a jaunty waltz. “You better teach the boys your moves.”

“Hmm that’s not a bad idea. Maybe it’ll tire them out,” Ong laughs. His smile falls when something crops up into mind, “Hey, speaking of the boys, have you seen Guanlin?”

“Guanlin…?” Chungha pouts her painted lips as she thinks. It takes her another eight counts before she recalls. “I saw him briefly when I just got in, but… That was hours ago.” She moves effortlessly to the music as they converse. “Why?”

“I haven’t seen him, at all,” Seongwoo frowns. “I wanted to at least say hi. I know he’s probably all excited with his family everywhere.”   
  


“Hm, I don’t know where he’d be,” Chunga shrugs without breaking their hold. “He is a bit… Different, that one. A bit on the… Conventional side.”

“From what I can tell, everyone in this family is a bit different,” Ong replies.

“Hm! Well, you got me there,” Chungha laughs. Seongwoo dips her down low, and she leans back into the move gracefully. Upon coming back up, she glances over her shoulder. “Oh- Cousin Minhyun is over there, why not ask him?”

“Oh- Are you sure? I do enjoy dancing with you, I promise.”

“Go,” Chungha encourages him. She steps back and courtseys with a cheeky grin. “Until we meet again on the dance floor.”

Seongwoo chuckles, “It was a pleasure.” He returns her gesture with a shallow bow before filing off to find Minhyun. It turns out to be easier than he thought, because by the time he sets his eyes on the other, the man’s already bounding toward him, weaving through people swiftly.

“Seongwoo,” Minhyun says. “Have you seen Guanlin?”

“Wha-? I was just about to ask you the same question! I wanted to say hi to the kid, but he’s been scarce…”

Minhyun laces his fingers with Ong’s and pulls the other out into a narrow hallway, away from the noise. Seongwoo’s eyes widen with shock. He’d never seen the easy, lax man so distressed before. Minhyun opens a door and promptly tugs Ong in. Candlelight lanterns light as the door shuts. Are those automatic? Ong wonders. He doesn’t see how they could be given that the flames appear real. That’s hardly of consequence, though. The room appears to be some sort of a parlor, outfitted with fanciful chaise lounges and heavy bookshelves.

“Whoa- What is it?” Ong asks. Minhyun crosses over to a chaise. For once, his gait lacks the easy grace he walks with. It’s more like a stumble, really, and he all but crumbles onto the Chesterfield piece. 

“You’re sure you haven’t seen him?” Minhyun asks concernedly. 

“I’m positive. Why? You mean you haven’t-”

“No, not for hours. Sungwoon, Jaehwan and I scoured the house. I personally checked the graveyard- all of the mausoleums. Sungwoon even dug a few coffins up.” He shakes his head dejectedly. “Nothing.”

“Well, there’s so many people here. All this family and friends, he’s probably off playing with someone.”

Minhyun shakes his head adamantly, “He’s not answering my calls, and I sent out our falcon in search of him as well. Not a single sign of him.” He sniffles.

Seongwoo rushes over to the other’s side and takes his hand, “Hey, it’s gonna be alright… He probably just got lost somewhere. Maybe fell down a laundry chute or needed some fresh air?”

“Guanlin has never been lost before. At least, not on purpose,” Minhyun frowns. “I- I don’t understand. Where would he have gone? He’s not even in his room resting. I understand parties can be overwhelming, but he’s just disappeared- I-” The beauty clenches his hands tightly in his lap and his body shudders with a reigned back sob. “I just don’t understand. Where has he gone? Where would he possibly be? And- And why would he just leave without a word to anyone?”

Seongwoo pats the other’s shoulder gratiatingly. He seizes up as the other buries his tear-streaked face in his shoulder. By reflex, he loops an arm around Minhyun’s shoulder. He hugs the other closer and wracks his brain. What could’ve happened?

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll find him,” Ong says.

“I just can’t help feeling as if I’ve failed him,” Minhyun shakes his head. “I should have known this phase of his was indicative of something more. What if he goes off and changes his name? What if he tries to become a Youtuber?!”

“Okay, let’s- let’s just think for a second. Say Guanlin really did run off. Where would he go?”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t know. I… I don’t even know- Satan- I don’t even know my own son,” Minhyun covers his face with his hand and sinks into the couch. His usually pale face sports a distressed flush as he holds back tears.

“Minhyun, you are a wonderful father. Both of you are. You’ve raised three sharp, independent, open-minded kids,” Seongwoo tells the other. It’s so different to see him like this - distressed and on the brink of a breakdown. It shows just how much the airy, aloof man truly cares for his family. 

Where would Guanlin go? Seongwoo wracks his brain. He’s a kid, for god’s sake. Not some teenager with a car or even access to a cab service. Wherever he is, he  _ has  _ to be close. He’s a clever, reserved kid. He wouldn’t hitchhike or try to catch a ride with a neighbor. Wherever he is, he must have walked. But where? It’s not like there’s much nearby.

That’s when realization sparks.

“Wait- Minhyun, I think I might have an idea where he is,” Seongwoo tells the other.

“O-Oh?” The other perks up slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Not positive, but… Well, we can’t give up, right? Look- Why don’t we find Jaehwan and you two comb the house again. I’ll check outside.”

Minhyun nods, taking a deep breath to steel himself. It’s incredible the way he’s in shambles one second and composed the next. Once again an air of cool, serene grace surrounds the beauty. 

“Though I typically loathe obligatory positive encouragement, you have a point. There are thousands of nooks and crannies in this house. Just as my ancestors didn’t stop witchcraft even after the trials, I shall not cease my search for my son!” He stands up triumphantly.

“That’s right,” Ong nods, trying not to chuckle. As cool as Minhyun is, there’s an almost goofy drama to his mannerisms at times. It’s endearing, really. Though he seems intimidating, he’s got a sillier side like everyone else. (Even if sometimes the funny things he does aren’t supposed to be funny.)

“Let’s go find Jaehwan, then,” Minhyun says.

“After you,” Seongwoo replies with a grin he hopes is encouraging. Though he doesn’t know why, he sticks an arm out. Minhyun beams and loops his arm around the other’s, resting his palm atop Seongwoo’s hand. Their eyes lock and the rest of the room disappears momentarily. A tenderness makes Ong’s heart pang with want. Want to reassure the other, to hold him and encourage him. Pink flushes the ordinary man’s cheeks, and his pupils sheepishly flit away.

He obliges the other by sifting through cliques of chattering partygoers. They politely rush smalltalk by the ones pulling them aside until they find Jaehwan. He’d been speaking concernedly with a cousin of his who appears to be nothing but a long head of hair that reaches the floor. Ong doesn’t question it. He doesn’t question anything about them, anymore.

“Jaehwan,” Minhyun says worriedly.

“My love! It’s been so long,” Jaehwan pouts, lamenting their time apart. (It’s been all of twenty minutes.) “Come here and-”

“No,” Minhyun presses a finger on the other’s plush, pursed lips. “Not now. Later. We have to find our son.”

“I love it when you tell me what to do,” Jaehwan growls under his breath. Ong coughs loudly, reminding the other that he’s still there. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn.” He says to the other, flashing a coquettish grin.

That is not the response Seongwoo had anticipated nor is it what he should be thinking about. Jaehwan glances at him expectantly, wondering about the lead, and Seongwoo tells the other two to follow him. They do, following him through the maze of decked out Victorian Gothic rooms. The trio weaves between flamboyantly dressed guests and rambunctous children. They make their way all the way to the mansion’s grand entrance before fanning out. Ong exits through the door while the other two dedicate themselves to one half of the house.

Seongwoo takes a deep breath upon entering the brisk night air. It’s refreshing after being stuffed into the mansion. The place is massive, yet the Hwangddams family manages to fill every room to the brim. As lovely as they are, it’s nice to get a breath of fresh air. The sitter crosses the front drive into the expansive lawn of dead grass. They walk all the way to where the property line ends and the grass begins to look greener. Seongwoo finally stops in front of his doorstep.

  
  


“Hmmm…” Ong presses an ear to the door. He can just barely make out muffled noises coming from within. He swears he’d locked it, but he certainly didn’t leave the TV on or have any music playing. “Yeah, I thought so,” Ong whispers.

He fishes his key out of the pocket of his suit jacket and carefully unlocks the door, minding his volume. Slowly, he opens the door, just a crack, and a strange, bluish light paints the floor beyond the door. Loud sound blares through the opening, revealing the source of the strange, flashing lights.

“-nd that’s a Warriors time out, their first of the game. They have got to do something about that defense or their aces aren’t gonna be able to pick up the slack…”

Seongwoo heaves a sigh of relief and steps in. A basketball game plays on the TV, and sitting on the couch watching it is a lanky little silhouette.

“How’s your team doing?” Seongwoo asks, stepping in.

Guanlin startles, big eyes wide with guilt. When he catches sight of his parents, his face falls into a frown. He presses his lips together tightly and crosses his arms, mute.

“How did you even get in here?” Ong tries.

“I picked the lock,” Guanlin mumbles. That’s the Hwangddams jumping out.

Seongwoo chuckles, flicking on a light to see the other better. The young boy isn’t dressed up as anything spooky or scary. He’s got on a bright blue jersey that matches the team on the screen. Thankfully, it seems like Guanlin hadn’t really gotten into much. He procured a bag of chips from the pantry and opened a can of soda. Aside from that, the place is in order.

Ong shuts the front door and asks, “Mind if I watch, too?”

Guanlin presses his lips together and looks away. In spite of his closed off body language, he nods, inviting the other onto the couch. ( _ His _ couch in  _ his  _ house.) Seongwoo flashes the other a grateful smile as he plops down gracelessly. He reaches into the bag of chips and feeds himself. All the craziness of the night ended up working up an appetite, and most of the food served was  _ way  _ too exotic for Ong’s sensitive stomach.

He doesn’t say anything - at least not about the kid’s get away stunt. Seongwoo comments on the game inanely, gauging the kid’s mood. At first, Guanlin is locked up tight, a ball of tension, stress, and guilt. However, over time, he relaxes. By halftime, he’s actually responding to Ong’s questions. (“What’s up with that guy’s hair?” “I dunno, they’re like big dreads I think.” “They let him play like that?” “When you can shoot like him, you can wear whatever hair you want.”)

When Guanlin is back to his giggly, laid back self, Seongwoo finally drives home the real question:

“So why’d you run away?”

Guanlin tenses again, eyes shooting toward the floor and mouth clamping shut.

“Hey, I’m not mad or anything, okay? I told you you’re welcome here. I just… Wanna know is all,” Ong shrugs, trying to appear as nonchalant and approachable as possible.

“I…” Guanlin frowns. “I wanted to watch the game.”

“What about your tablet? Or one of the TVs at home?” Ong asks. “C’mon, Lin. Tell me the real reason. You know, you scared the shit out of us.”

“I- I did?” Guanlin asks, voice lifting. Is he… Happy he scared them? Seongwoo isn’t sure if that’s indicative of some manipulative personality defect or just a Hwangddams thing. He imagines it’s the latter.

“ _ Not _ in the fun way,” Seongwoo says flatly.

“Oh,” Lin’s gaze falls again. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to. I just-” He clutches his hands in his lap tightly. “-I just felt like... I mean, look at me-” The boy waves to himself. “-everyone else has all these crazy costumes on. I’m the only one dressed up as a pro athlete. I think I’m the only one who can  _ name  _ a pro athlete! When my parents saw me they looked so, like…”

“They looked what?” Seongwoo asks, frowning at the boy’s dejection.

“I dunno. Disappointed? I just- I don’t wanna be at some stupid party with a bunch of family I never even see who are just gonna judge me. Like there’s just people everywhere and they’re all kissing me and asking me what I do in school and if I know this magical spell and- and- and then my parents are gonna be sad because I’m the big freakin’ weirdo in a family of freaks! I just wanna have a chill night and watch the game!” He throws his hands up. “And- And I dunno, I just… Well, you said I was always welcome, so…” He twiddles his thumbs anxiously.

“You are welcome. Though, I would’ve liked for you to tell me before coming over,” Seongwoo chuckles. “If you were overwhelmed, you should’ve just let your parents know- or even me or Sungwoon. We would’ve understood.”

“Maybe you would have,” Guanlin sighs. “Nobody else does, though…”

“Guanlin.”

“I’m serious. I just- They just- I’m different, Ong. And as much as my family preaches about that stuff they totally don’t get it at all.”

“You’re right,” Seongwoo says. “They don’t get it.”

“They don’t! I swear and I- wait, you mean it?” Guanlin’s face drops into an expression of shock halfway through his little rant.

Ong nods, “Of course I do. You are different than them. You like different things. Have your own personality. And they don’t always understand it.”

“W-Well… Y-Yeah. Yeah… I just-” Guanlin’s sad expression cracks a bit. The edges of his lips turn up into a half-smile. “Normally grown-ups don’t agree with that stuff. They just say ‘you’re a kid stop acting like you know everything’ or whatever.”

“Is that how your parents are? Have they said things like that to you?” Seongwoo asks.

“W-Well, not exactly, but- but still… I’m not like the rest of the family. They know that. I know that. So it’s just-” The kid shrugs. “-I dunno. I’m happy by myself.”

“Really? Because you don’t seem very happy,” Ong answers frankly.

Guanlin gasps, eyes blown open with betrayal. Probably because he thought Ong was “on his side” or something. In truth Seongwoo isn’t exactly on anyone’s side. He just wants everyone to get along. Issues in the Hwangddams family feel… Personal. They’re basically his family, too. (He’s heard it enough times from the Hwangddams men themselves.)

“Well it’s better than being there and getting judged for the things I like,” Guanlin replies obstinately. “You even agreed. They just don’t get it. They would say it’s weird or rude or wrong for me to be in my room watching sports while there’s family over.”

“I did agree,” Seongwoo responds. “I agreed that you’re different and that they don’t understand you. But you don’t know what they’ll think if you don’t tell them what you think.”

“Tell them? What would I tell them?” Guanlin asks, confused.

Seongwoo shrugs, “Maybe just tell them you feel overwhelmed with all these strange people. Tell them that you’re very passionate about basketball and that following the league is important to you. I- I can’t promise that they’ll respond in a certain way. But I can promise that they will never understand you if you don’t at least try to talk to them,” He bites his lips nervously, waiting. 

He’s never thought of himself as the parental type. Not that he’s trying to be a parent to Guanlin. It’s just that, well, this is his first “heart to heart” with a child. Like, ever. Guanlin is surprisingly mature for being in elementary school. (Ong thinks it’s something about children in this day and age - all the technology makes them age faster, he swears.) Even so, what if Guanlin just doesn’t get it? What if he pitches a fit? What if he gets more mad?

Guanlin nods. His eyes become wet and glassy, and he sniffles loudly.

Oh no.

“Wh- Hey, hey, there’s no reason to cry,” Seongwoo tacks on sheepishly. He loops an arm around the kid’s shoulder and squeezes. “What’s the matter?”

“I- I don’t wanna talk to them,” Guanlin cries.

“Wha- Why not? Guanlin your parents love you very much. Even if they don’t understand you and can’t tell hockey and basketball apart, they adore you. You just have to tell them ‘this is who I am today’.”

“But what if they say no?”

“Wh- Say what?”

“What if they don’t like who I am today?” Guanlin hiccups, and tears stream down his face. “What if they just tell me I’m too normal or- or to be more like Daehwi- he’s their favorite I know he is!”

There it is, Seongwoo realizes. It’s not just a fear of reprimand. It’s a fear of rejection that keeps Guanlin from opening up. He’s terrified that if he does open up, if he asks them directly to accept him, they won’t. Ong can relate to that feeling all too well. Rejection is hard enough to cope with as is. Having it handed to you by your own blood because of things you can’t help is unimaginably painful. It’s something that grown adults struggle to cope with. Of course a child would agonize over such a thing.

“Guanlin,” Seongwoo tells the other in a low voice, “They love who you are today. And they’ll love who you are tomorrow and the next day. Because your parents love you.” Ong gets off the couch and gets on his knees in front of the other so they can be eye to eye.

Guanlin sniffs loudly and wipes his wrist across his eyes. His face is puffy and tearstained, but he meets the adult’s gaze regardless. He’s strong and shockingly wise. Something about the sight of the teary-eyed boy meeting him at eye level reminds Ong of Minhyun. 

“I just… I don’t get why I couldn’t be born in a normal family.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t choose that,” Seongwoo says. “But, listen, as someone who grew up in a ‘normal’ family and lived a ‘normal’ life, I’ve got a secret for you.”

“A secret?” Lin’s face scrunches with puzzlement.

Ong nods, “Yup. See, the truth is that… Growing up in a normal family is… It’s honestly almost exactly the same.”

“I don’t know about that,” Guanlin replies glumly.

“Okay, okay so yeah  _ some  _ things  _ are  _ a  _ little  _ different, but, like… Feeling like the odd man out? Been there. That one parent who can’t figure out technology even though smart phones have been around for a decade? That’s my mom. Satanic pet hellbent on the destruction of humanity? My cat’s chihuahua Bozo. I would gladly babysit your alligator over that little demon any day. Look he- I still have a scar-” Seongwoo lifts his wrist, showing a mark that the abominable canine left years prior.

That elicits a little giggle from the downtrodden boy.

Seongwoo smiles, “Um, let’s see, what else have we got? Family members we don’t talk about- that’s my Uncle Joh. Creepy old house that makes weird noises and oozes green stuff out of the walls for some reason? My great grandma’s. We… We never figured out what was up with the wall. Oh- Sibling that’s perfect that you’ll always feel inadequate next to? My older sister. She’s got it all on lock- married, kids, good job. See, in my family, I’m the black sheep.”

“Really?” Guanlin asks weakly. “But you seem so…”

“Normal,” The man chuckles. “I know. But, even though my family doesn’t always get me or agree with me- heck, some of them outright reject me- distant relatives, of course. Point is: they still love me. Yeah I don’t talk to them about all of my weird interests but they still try and meet me halfway and I try to meet them halfway and we love each other. We’re there for each other. And I know your family. I know they will love you and be there for you even if they don’t know what a layup is or whatever. Alright?”

Guanlin sniffles but nods, “Okay…”

“So, please, Guanlin, let me take you home so your parents can know you’re okay,” Seongwoo says.

“Yeah… I guess I probably should,” The kid sighs.

“...After the game’s over,” Ong adds. How much harm can another forty-five minutes gone be anyway?

  
“Yeah! After the game for sure!” Guanlin bounces happily. It’s astonishing how fast he can go from gloomy to excited. He glues his eyes eagerly on the screen, drinking up every bit of commentary during the halftime report. Ong ruffles his hair a bit, sending the boy’s parents a text on the sly.

* * *

“There you are!” Minhyun rushes forward and scoops Guanlin up into his arms. Jaehwan clamors to follow, and the two squeeze him in a death grip. 

Daehwi pouts beside the embracing trio, “Next time you disappear, you better let me in on it.” Ong laughs. He supposes that’s Daehwi’s way of saying “I missed you”. Jinyoung just cries happily, clinging to his papa’s pantleg.

The two parents part slightly to give Guanlin some air.

“Don’t you ever disappear without telling us again.” “We were worried sick.” “We nearly called the police!” “I was this close to sending a search party!” The two take turns scolding the child. Eventually, he’s sentenced to a no-tablet week before being rushed to bed with the other children by Sungwoon.

The truth is, they’d both been gone much longer than they planned to be. Ong fell asleep early in the third quarter of the game. Apparently, Guanlin dozed off not long after. The two ended up being out for hours and not returning until the festivities had fizzled out and the majority of the house guests had retired to their guest rooms or hotels.

The carnage is brutal. Unsurprisingly, the Hwangddams people know how to party. There are discarded glasses and plates everywhere. A decorative suit of armor lost its head and has had it replaced with a jack-o-lantern. Paintings have moustaches and other crude shapes on them, and somehow a raccoon had gotten loose. The fat creature happily gobbles down some food scraps that had fallen onto the floor. A chandelier somehow fell onto the ground. Seongwoo doesn’t know where it came from - the foyer’s chandelier appears to be hanging in the room as always. Good thing they’re rich, Ong muses. He couldn’t imagine cleaning the mess up.

“Well,” Seongwoo sighs. “I should probably-mm-”

His eyes blow wide open, and he squeaks. The sound doesn’t really manage to come out or form into anything legible, because there are lips on his. Beautiful, soft, petal-like lips. Seongwoo freezes for a second, wondering if he’s still asleep. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he hit his head and is hallucinating. Because there’s no other reason that Minhyun would be kissing him, right?

Except, he is. He definitely is.

  
Fireworks ignite in Seongwoo’s chest, and in spite of the other’s wed husband being right there, Ong embraces the other. They’re poly, after all. This is fine, right? The idea is still strange and foreign to him. But, so many other things about the Hwangddams Family had caught him off guard before. Seongwoo is sure he can adjust.

Though the kiss is chaste, it undeniably affects Seongwoo. He tries not to surrender too much, still slightly unsure of himself and where he stands with the two. Even so, he returns the gesture with enthusiasm, finally giving into all of those urges and feelings he’d been keeping dammed up inside.

When they part, Seongwoo is breathless, blushing, and blinking confusedly. Before he even has time to think, his body is moved. One hand loops around his lower back while the other pushes him down by the shoulder. The hands don’t belong to Minhyun, but to Jaehwan, who sticks a leg out to support Seongwoo’s lower back as he dips him. The eccentric man presses his own lips against Ong’s, and they’re so soft and pliant the sensation of contact is almost intoxicating. What Ong wouldn’t give to sink his teeth in at that very moment. He doesn’t, though. He sighs happily, high of elation starting to make him dizzy (along with the dramatic incline of his current position). Jaehwan gently guides him back up, a debonair grin across his lips. 

“Thank you so much, Ong,” Minhyun lavishes fondly, taking one of Seongwoo’s hands.

“U-Uh, no problem. Just doing my part. I wasn’t gonna just let Guanlin be, uh, disappeared,” Seongwoo chokes out, nervous.

“Seongwoo,” Jaehwan, taking Ong’s other hand, speaks. “Please, don’t dimish yourself.”

“O-Oh, well, um- I just- I don’t know what to say. You guys are so kind. I… I would do anything for him. He’s a good kid. I would do anything for any of you, really. You guys are… You’re the closest thing I’ve had to family since living with my own.”

Minhyun and Jaehwan exchange a look. Seongwoo can’t really read it. It appears contemplative, like a silent conversation. Whatever they’d nonverbally discussed, they apparently came to a consensus about it.

Minhyun is the one to address the other, “Ong,” He says his voice low and soft. He holds Seongwoo’s hand in both of his, holding the other man’s gaze earnestly. “Jaehwan and I have been talking about this for quite awhile now, and we’re very serious.”

“S-Serious? About what?” Seongwoo sputters out, nervous heat needling his cheeks.

“We may not share a last name, but we would fight for you like we would our own blood. We would kill for you, Ong.”

“And die for you,” Jaehwan adds sincerely.

“Um, O-Oh, I don’t know if I deserve-”

“I’ll hear none of it,” Minhyun says pointedly. “Jaehwan and I have discussed it and we…” He nibbles on his lip, betraying genuine nervousness for just a moment. “We would like to court you.”

“You- You what?!” Ong squeaks out. “I- I’m sorry if that sounded- I just- I’m not sure I understand.”

“We want you to be a part of this family,” Jaehwan says. “A part of this marriage.”

“Only if you wish it,” Minhyun adds. “I understand that even for someone open as yourself, this is a very alien proposal. But I can no longer deny my feelings.”

“Nor I mine.”

“We love you, and I don’t think it out of the realm of reality to think that you reciprocate those feelings.”

Seongwoo feels overwhelmed. Surprisingly, not in a bad way. No. His heart is soaring. He feels like his crush just confessed to him. He realizes it’s because, well, his crushes  _ did  _ confess to him.  _ Both  _ of them. Butterflies flutter restlessly in his chest and his stomach does giddy flips. He doesn’t know how to handle it or how to cope. If they weren’t holding his hands, he’s pretty sure he’d just float away. This is unreal.

“O-Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jaehwan says, “We would drop it here and now. You would still be family to us no less.”

“That’s- That’s right,” Minhyun nods fervently, squeezing Ong’s hand tighter. “You needn’t feel any pressure.”

“I- I just-” Ong wishes he could get the words out, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. To him, a threesome always equated to a lascivious tryst done for bragging rights where someone almost always came out with the short end of the stick. It never occurred to him that it could be like this. It never dawned on him that they could be born of love, of affection and understanding. “This is all so new, to be honest. B-But not in a- a bad way I just… I’ve never been courted in my life, I don’t think.”

“Really?” “Never?!” “That’s such a shame.” The other two gasp and mutter.

“Yeah and, uh, I’ve never, like, um, been with more than one person at the same time. I…” Seongwoo looks Jaehwan in the eye, then Minhyun. Though it’s absolutely, completely, utterly, undeniably batshit crazy, his gut feeling tells him the answer in his heart. He doesn’t know how his own blood family will react to it. How his friends will feel about it. And god forbid anyone at work finds out. But at the end of the day, when he goes to bed, Seongwoo doesn’t answer to any of those people.

He answers to himself and himself only.

And if he denied himself this love, this chance at a fulfilling relationship, something he’s always wanted yet never been able to find - well, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

“I want you,” Seongwoo says finally. “I want both of you. I- I have for a while. You two are right. The feelings are… Reciprocated.” He can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Two sets of lips take a cheek, pressing chaste pecks on the reddened flesh. 

“Come, then,” Minhyun beckons Seongwoo. He guides him up the stairs. “We’ve still got a few hours of moonlight.” The beauty’s tone drops into something lilting and smooth, like silk.

Ong’s brain ceases function for an instant upon realizing the implication. 

“Don’t worry,” Jaehwan says from his other side. “We’ll take it easy on you for the first time.” He winks.

Seongwoo doesn’t really have a response other than “yes, god, yes please” - he figures he’ll save that for the bedroom, though. Until then, he’s happy to be guided by the quirky Jaehwan and striking Minhyun. He floats on clouds as the three ascend, eventually disappearing behind the grandiose, tall door of the master bedchamber. Moonlight filters in through the tall stained glass window as Seongwoo lives out the rest of his night, swaddled in silk and wrapped in leather. The sounds rumbling into his ears range from sweet nothings to guttural and even demonic. Roiling sensations wrack his mortal body until his spirit near departs it, whisked away in a storm of pain mixed with pleasure. All the while, he’s cared for, pampered, adored.

Loved.

They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky. They’re altogether ooky - and everything Ong needs. Their house is a museum. When people come to see them, it really is a scream - Ong’s new family.

**Author's Note:**

> // hehe ty for reading this if u do!! i hope u like wholesome spooky shenanigans and loving polyamory!!


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